Iruka Rising
by KareNeko
Summary: An example of the care and feeding of a shinobi child, Umino-style; and the free-fall of going on alone after the nine-tail attack. Follows Iruka to the events of The Space In Between,but the story stands alone.Potentially disturbing content later RatedM
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I don't even know the fine folks who do, but I adore them anyway. And this, alas, will be true for the entire story. Disclaimer covers all chapters to follow.

_This story is also a prequel to The Space In Between. Prequels have the advantage that you don't have to read the other story first (or ever). I'm trying to get the sequel at least two-thirds finished before starting to post it. This plot bunny is one rabid rabbit! I hope you enjoy it..._

**Chapter One**

"Mama!" A boy no taller than three feet, brown eyes as big as saucers in panic, cried out as he ran. His little legs churned and the dirt flew from beneath his sandals as he shot around the front corner of his house, digging in hard to make the sharp turn. The dash was taking all of his breath but terror fueled the extra air pressure to call loudly for rescue. "Mama!"

The dark-haired kunoichi paused from her work at the sight of her son barreling towards her in the bright morning light. She reached down and caught him easily by the collar as he tried to dart past her to the front steps, lifting him in the air single-handed with his feet still churning. Without breaking stride she pulled him right back in the direction he had been fleeing from.

Dozens of huge, angry bee summons banked in the air, rounding the corner in pursuit and drilling right at the terrified boy as she held him up in front of her. The threatening sound of their buzzing wings grew louder still, filling the air. Her free hand drew her kunai from her belly holster and she picked them off one by one as soon as they reached arm's length from her son. She let the last one get close enough that the pieces of vanquished insect peppered his little face.

She gave him a good shake and released him. He landed heavily and had to take a step back to keep from toppling over. When she saw he was steady on his feet she bent down calmly and gave his panting, upturned face a firm slap, eliciting a wince and gasp. "Umino Iruka, I have told you before! Never panic! Ever!"

The frowning woman stood back with her hands on her hips, towering over him. His hand flew to the red palm-print on his cheek and his plump lower lip quivered, but he would not cry. He knew that would be wrong.

"Three mistakes!" she stated firmly. "Name them!"

"Never panic," he repeated quickly, still panting. "Uh…don't yell don't run away?"

"Never panic. Never interact with unfamiliar summons. Never leave the house unarmed! With your kunai you could have dispelled them easily!" She leaned down to look him right in the eye, watching closely for any un-shinobi-like flinching. "And what about your mission?" she said tightly.

He concentrated fiercely on making his hand stop shaking. His breathing was slowing down to a nearly normal rate, and he fixed his soft jaw in firm determination. Opening his small fist, he showed that he still held the coin folded in the note. "Still in progress!" he said in his best tough soldier voice.

"Yes! So you have not failed!" his mom said, giving his shoulder a congratulatory squeeze. "Mistakes were made but your choices resulted in the safe continuation of the mission! Ready to re-deploy?"

"Yes. Ma'am!" He planted his sandals firmly and clenched his hand back into its death grip.

"Then go. And don't come back without that package!" She turned away without watching him go, wiping the bug juice off the kunai onto the seat of her fatigues and sheathing it absently. With a deep breath to clear her mind she returned to her training exercises, skimming her powerful skilled hands with blinding speed as she created a web of water and began working on her timing and accuracy for using it as a snare once more.

Iruka stole a guilty glance back at her and thundered up the steps into the house, running down the hallway and fighting down the very same un-shinobi-like reactions she had been watching him for. He rummaged in his bedside table for his junior kunai. I was only when he had it holstered in his belt that he took his own deep breath, moving a little more deliberately back out into the front yard to avoid distracting his mother from her training again.

He felt the pounding in his chest start up again at the thought of venturing back out. He ducked his head out to take a stealthy look around the corner before moving on. Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen now. He set his jaw and stepped out, one hand squeezing his payload, one hovering over his weapon.

He was pretty attentive and focused at first, walking while observing everything and everyone with his sparkling dark eyes. Starting out with the chase fresh in his mind helped him to remember to be on guard like he was supposed to. But then his sandal caught a pebble, and it hopped and then rolled directly ahead of him playfully. So he sort of felt obligated to give it another kick and see if he could make it come along with him. Kicking it ahead, his attention shifted to his accuracy, and the need to scan for danger in the midst of his own safe village faded. He kept up this game of kick-the-stone until he lost concentration on it as well.

I have to do better, he thought with a frown. I have to get into the academy this year! I'm already four and a half. The really special kids my age made it in right at four, a few even before that. If I don't get in this time I'll be five before I get in. Or maybe six. Or maybe never!

He didn't want to even consider what his mama would do if he couldn't ever get in.

But he was pretty sure monsters would be involved in it.

His short legs worked heroically and took him to the village herb and medicinal shop. He reached up and tapped the countertop with an urgent hand.

The old woman rose from her stool and came to investigate the noise, watching the small boy appear from the concealment of the counter's height as she approached.

"Iruka-kun, what brings you here today?" she said with a genuine smile. Such a cute little boy, so serious and wide-eyed. When she first saw him as a toddler tagging along with his mother, she had asked what the little girl's name was. Iruka had laughed, his little voice like a bubbling brook, but his mother had scowled rather severely and corrected her in no uncertain terms.

Iruka held out his hand and uncurled his little fingers. She took the note and unfolded it, removing the coin and smoothing out the creases. Gnarled hands took the glasses that hung on a beaded chain around her neck and settled them on her nose, peering at the regimented printing.

"Ah-ha. One moment, young man." She shuffled back to a shelf and selected a jar, measuring a scoop of yellow powder into a small baggie, the placing it on a pharmacist's scale. Perfect, just as her experience hand and eye had estimated. She sealed it with a tamper-proof sticker, and then pulled another jar down. Four round pills went in the next clear bag. She sealed it as well, placing both of the items into a brown paper bag. She wrote out the receipt and put it in the bag, stapling it shut.

"Who's going on the mission, little one? Mama or Papa?" The Uminos were a very practical couple, only purchasing enough soldier pills and healing powders for each mission just prior to departure.

Iruka shrugged, not knowing the answer and not sure why the lady was asking. His parents were always either on a mission, coming back from one, or getting ready for their next one. They were shinobi! Why even ask such a question?

But missions were secret and dangerous and important, and maybe people with such claw-like hands were just the kind of people you'd better not tell anything to.

"You shouldn't ask about missions, they're secret," Iruka scolded in his best mother's tone.

The old woman suppressed a smile. The tyke did a passable imitation of his battle-hardened dam.

"Of course, and you're a very good ninja not to be tricked into talking."

Iruka nodded with dignity and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. "Here is your purchase, Iruka dear. Be sure to take it straight home, those are very dangerous chemicals your mother is entrusting you with."

"Yes, Mikoko-sama. Thank you and be on your guard!" he said cheerfully and held the bag to his chest with both hands. His brown eyes crinkled shut for a moment as he smiled at the prospect of successfully completing his mission.

"You're welcome, Iruka. You be careful as well." She watched him as he went out the door, shaking her head in wonder. Some of the little boys his age were already becoming a tad tough and arrogant, but Iruka was always so very likable and engaging.

And she much preferred his in-shop manners to his mother's. That woman drove a hard bargain indeed.

o0o0o0o

Iruka crawled up into the big chair onto his mother's lap and she held the book aside while he settled in.

"Thank you for your hard work today!" she said, smiling proudly. Iruka smiled and wiggled with happy pride, anxiously waiting for his reward.

"I see you picked the same story again. Good selection!" his mother said approvingly. It wasn't Iruka's favorite story, not by a long shot, but his mother always seemed so pleased when he picked it that he chose it often.

"Okay, are you ready?" Iruka leaned into her side and held still and quiet, listening intently and trying to read along as she started the story. "Once, in the land of fire and bravery, lived a young shinobi and a young kunoichi. They lived by themselves as ninja of the forest, and they were proud to do so. Their parents died when they were very small but they were clever and resourceful and they never wanted for a thing. Then one day invaders came to their land."

"Sio, the young man, fought bravely and never gave up. His sister, Yana, fought just as hard. But in the end they were overrun. The enemy took Yana and made her their handmaiden. They left Sio hanging in a tree breathing his last, his young body pierced with many kunai, as a warning to the other forest dwelling ninja."

As she continually turned the large, colorful pages filled with beautifully illustrated forest scenes, intricate clothing and weapons, and explicitly depicted torture and gore, Iruka snuggled in. More and more he relaxed in the warmth of being nestled up under her strong arm as it made the slight movements of flipping to the next page. It was a good feeling and he loved it even more than the story-telling. But the day had been long and stressful and though he tried hard to fight it, he soon grew still.

When his head dropped forward she stopped reading, chuckling and resting her cheek briefly on the top of his head. She indulged in a brief swell of pride. He tried so hard to stay awake; she knew he loved his stories, especially the ones that taught the values important for brave shinobi life.

"I'll take him," offered her husband, and she opened her arms and let the dozing boy be lifted and carried away by his big, strong father. They made a handsome pair, one at the peak of his mature adult power, and the other like a little sponge to be filled with their wisdom and training, to surpass them both one day.

His father liked to put the boy to bed, there were never any spankings or arguments at bedtime like there had been when he was a boy. Iruka was such a cooperative child, it worried him a bit that he was so peaceable, affectionate and open. They tried to discourage it to a degree, and his wife was far better at it than he was. Something in his son's brilliant smile filled him with the irresistible urge to smile back, and his warm hugs and impulsive kisses made him want to return them. But Iruka was getting too old for those childish habits. His father surprised himself at feeling regret that it was time to start breaking him of them.

The elder Umino found that he wasn't completely in agreement with enforcing a no-affections policy at this age, not when their son's unique personality seemed to be filled with so much of it.

"Son," he sighed, prying his way out of the goodnight embrace, "you're getting to be a little old for this."

He supposed that he had expected the look on Iruka's face, but expecting it didn't help much.

"You won't tell me goodnight any more?" he quavered.

"Of course I'll tell you goodnight! But the hugging and the kiss, that's…well, you don't see the warriors in your adventure books getting kisses goodnight from their parents, do you?"

"They don't show 'em going to the bathroom, either, but I bet they do all those things. They just don't show it in the book."

"Er…okay, forget that example." Iruka was an excellent debater for his age. He should have known that the impassioned little boy would be fiercely defensive of this and bring his little lightning mind into the fray. "It's just a part of being a shinobi, son. Everyone has emotions, of course, but they have to be trained, too, just like your body. You have to be in control. The more perfect your control, the better shinobi you are."

"A hug goodnight is out of control?"

"If you have to have it, it is."

Iruka frowned, taking that in. "So if I have to have it, I can't have it at all?"

"You need to start adjusting to the idea of not being so open with your affections. It can be a sign of weakness."

"Aren't you old and aren't you doing it, too? You're not weak!"

"I…" he knit his brow and their eyes locked. He started to object, and then stopped. Iruka had him dead to rights. His son had the excuse of youth, but he himself had none, other than the fact that he had the most lovable son a father could ever be blessed with. He sighed.

"Yes and no. I suppose I am weak in a way, your mother is very clear in her opinion that this little ritual of ours is unseemly."

Iruka's lower lip was starting to jut, and his father knew that, if anything, not only had he failed to sway the boy, but he had perhaps made him more stubbornly determined to defend his position.

"A compromise, then. Between us, we may agree to have small displays of caring. But in order to live properly as shinobi, no one else can know."

Iruka considered, then softened and nodded. "That means I get my goodnights, right?"

"Only when we have proper privacy. And not forever, son. Just until you get a little older."

There might have been a viable argument for letting the boy have a little more emotional leeway if times had not been so dangerous and uncertain, but sadly that wasn't the case. So they treated their bedtime ritual as if it were a vital village secret.

There was no secret more precious for Iruka. His fierce determination delayed the end of his nighttime ritual for three more years; and if anything, it convinced him that his father was not weak at all. He was brave to defy the unspoken pressure to pretend he didn't care, and that form of bravery was a life-long lesson Iruka embraced with pride.

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

_Skimming along through the early years..._

**Chapter 2**

"Iruka, my boy, come in and see us," the bald man said, waving a hand expansively from his seat at the kitchen table. "He's getting big, Umino!"

Iruka froze. He had been practicing his scouting stealth and here he was caught again. He was never going to get that cookie!

"It's okay, Iruka, come say hello to my guests. And grab a cookie on the way in," his father added knowingly.

Iruka picked right up on his father's insight and a flash of anger at being found out almost made him skip the cookie. Almost.

He settled into the one empty chair and looked up at his dad with a warm feeling of love and admiration. _My dad is so cool! He looks like one of those tough-guy poker players!_

"Hey, squirt, settle down." The elder Umino laid his cards face-down and reached for his son, giving him a manly pat on the back and fixing his little pony tail. "Your chocolate chips are melting."

Iruka inspected his fingers and licked smeared chocolate off of two of them.

"Should we deal him in?" one of the other men asked, and they all laughed good-naturedly.

But his dad regarded him with a slightly sad smile and said wistfully, "I don't know if he'll ever have a poker face."

"It's those expressive eyes. Get the boy some smoked eye-protectors. Smoked or mirrored. Then he'll be set."

"Leave it to you to suggest mirrored eyewear for playing poker…moron!" one of the other men sniped.

"Not for poker! I meant he could wear 'em for the look…all the great nins have their trademark look."

They nodded and returned their attention to their card game. Iruka, full of energy and already bored, wriggled down out of the chair. His mouth popped open and his eyes locked in when he spotted a large, hairy spider in the corner of the kitchen. He crouched in his hunting stance and pulled out his half-sized kunai.

The men at the table took notice quietly, and smiled wryly amongst themselves, watching the small boy creeping slowly in their peripheral vision as he snuck up on his prey. They expected to see a successful kill, wondering if he would stab it with the tip of the kunai or smash it with the flat of the blade.

They didn't expect that he would throw it. The little arm launched with all its might, which was considerable, and the blade hit its target but deflected off the floor's tile coving and went whistling straight back at its launching point.

Even the half-dozen elite nin jumping up from the table were unable to react in time to prevent the kunai's flight.

Iruka's fledgling instincts were the only thing that saved him. When the blade came sailing back with deadly precision on a path to his left eye, he dodged back and spun his head away. The sharp edge lanced his face nearly in profile instead, completely slicing through the bridge of his nose.

The impact of the thick metal blade was dazing and his eyes rolled up in his head before he finished falling.

His father was at least able to get a hand under him in time so he wouldn't hit the floor. The blood gushed profusely and one of the guests used his emergency healing techniques to slow the bleeding and assess the situation as urgent.

"It's very deep; take him to the hospital quickly!"

In his father's arms, gurgling blood and dizzy with pain, he was delivered to the emergency desk.

The trip was hazy but Iruka felt the throbbing pain on his face, the strange feeling of warm liquid flowing onto his cheeks, and the disturbed chakra of his father's distress. He tried to cling tight but a weakness was loosening his grip as he jarred in the arms of his swiftly traveling father. When bright white seemed to wash the world in light, strangers took him and his father's presence grew far away. Soon after, his awareness did, as well.

Many hands rushed to help the personable little boy; they'd seen him often, tagging along on hospital visits to his parents and their teammates after rough missions. He was always polite to the staff and sometimes gave them helpful criticism about their lax state of alert in the most unintentionally adorable manner.

They stopped the bleeding and the med-nin's first concern was to fix his nose so it would function properly. It was difficult to restore the structure and Iruka was weak and feverish before they could complete the initial procedure. It was feared that he might lose the ability to breathe through his nose, and his mother pressed the medical staff relentlessly. That loss would compromise his abilities as a jounin, making his breathing too loud for optimum stealth and too shallow for proper stamina.

He woke up the next day crying for his father, frightened from the pain and in confusion from the medications for fever. His mother was there and patiently talked him back into behaving properly. His father had been called away on a mission and he left the oversight of Iruka's care in his wife's steady hands.

The Uminos had often expressed concern over his girlish cuteness in private. Looking on the bright side in their waiting room conversation, they'd decided that it wouldn't be a bad thing if this uglied him up a bit. They expressly told the doctors to concentrate on function and to make no frivolous extra effort to conceal the scarring. No one wanted his abilities impaired.

The wound healed far slower than it should have; it was plagued with infections and was well on the way to leaving a satisfactory wide scar that would be the center of attention on his small, sweet face. After a sad and solitary period of indoor recuperation, he resumed his errands with enthusiasm and brought notes and coins again, taking away the various herbs and medications as before. Now and then he picked up a new one that helped with his chronic headaches from his scarred, reassembled sinuses.

He didn't have to reach up quite so high to reach the counter the first day he came on his mission after his injury; on tip-toe he could see her easily now, even when she was seated. His ravaged nose just cleared the counter's edge and she winced in worry that he would bump that painful wound while stretching up to see her.

Mikoko had a great deal of experience in matters both medical and medicinal, and the scar that was forming was destined to be quite remarkable. In her opinion, the decision to forgo scar-reducing preparations was nothing short of shameful. She had her suspicions that his parents might have some hand in it, or at the very least, were pleased with his disfigurement.

"Do you like my wound?" he asked proudly. "I got it hunting; it was a rick-o-shay!"

She smiled at him, nodding. "It's a mark of courage, I see that! You brave shinobi take many risks for the village. We're all in your debt."

He puffed up and slapped the coin and paper on the counter. "More soldier pills for Mom!"

"Mom uses more of them than she used to," the old woman mused aloud, going to the glass container to scoop out the requested pills. "Does she go on missions more often?"

"All the time! More than Dad, and now that I'm going to start at the academy, they're going to go together at the same time sometimes. I'll be the one to keep things safe at our house when they're gone, 'cause I'm bigger now!"

Five was not an unheard of age for boys to start taking on such tasks, but this boy, with his beautiful eyes and innocent fearlessness left her heart aching for more peaceful times.

"You know, Iruka, if your parents aren't home and you need someone to…report suspicious activity to, I am certified to hear that kind of classified information." Run to me Iruka, if you get scared, her heart whispered between the lines.

"Really?" His big eyes seemed brighter as he looked at her, the edge of his hidden relief showing. "Okay, I'll remember. "'cause I was wondering what I should do if there were, like, missing nin in my closet, and I was just me home."

She nodded back. "If that happens you report straight to me and we'll take it right to the Hokage if need be. It's not just your home, but the village you're standing guard over!"

They made their own little pact that day. It gave her a sense of relief to think that he would come to her if he was alone and in trouble. Over time she began to think of Iruka as her surrogate grandson.

And he came to think of her as his Mikoko-baachan, and more than once he sought her out when he was alone and frightened while both of his parents were away, at least until he became a man of eight years and too old for such weakness.

Still, he ran the errands and visited at the herb shop, and he came to notice more about her and her life, sometimes lending a hand with heavier work and watching out for her when she seemed under the weather. The lessons she taught him were subtle and unspoken, but he learned them well, finding a special reward in caring and watching out for one another person even though they were not blood relations.

o0o0o0o

Iruka was getting bigger and stronger, heading into the last stretch before cresting the hill into his teens. He spent more time training, working out, doing tasks for his parents. His responsibilities had increased along with his years and now he was charged with keeping the larder stocked and the yardwork done; the housekeeping and laundry fell to him as well, and he did his duty unquestioningly. It left him no time for the kind of horseplay the other boys seemed to get up to after classes. He would hear the tales of their antics here and there during breaks in the school day, and think to himself just how much trouble he would be in if he tried to indulge in such nonsense. He was well-liked as a classmate but after turning down all invitations to hang out or come over, he became somewhat of a non-entity in the pre-teen social circles. He shrugged off the stigma, too busy and dedicated to his family and work to worry about it.

His mother had already made it clear that every effort he made in the home that relieved his parents of a task reserved their strength and mental clarity, therefore making them more effective tools for the village. When one did their best, no matter the task, the benefit rippled out and made things better for everyone in some way, even if it was so slight it could barely be detected. Of course, as shinobi, they were at the masthead of benefit to the land, directly performing the most needed and noble of duties. This was just remedial morality building for the boy. He was destined to be a special jounin, perhaps even a sannin in his later years.

Even as he passed counter height, he still held the same soft eyes when he came to the herb shop. He was kindly and respectful when he came for the supplies. And now, once in a while, he picked up something that was for him to use, when he was going out in a group on a C-rank.

Soon, she realized, he would be coming in for his own blood pills and soldier pills and healing powders, and then battle wounds that faded to scars would begin to decorate him. She dreaded it a bit. So many of the nin that came in changed over the years, hardening with bitter experience. And eventually, a day would come when their visits would end abruptly. It usually coincided with the latest interment ceremony at the memorial grounds. So many had come and gone, most lives lost too young, she had seen them in multitude.

"You look sad today, Mikoko-baachan," Iruka said in pert concern, leaning on his elbows on the now mid-chest-height counter.

"Oh, it's nothing, Iruka-kun, just thinking too much." She smiled and slipped on her glasses, hand out. "Let's have it, boy."

"I don't have an order today. I just finished my D-rank getting a family of skunks moved out from under the tea house just down the block, so I wanted to come by to say hi."

She peered at him over the spectacles and took them off again to let them dangle by the beaded chain. "You must have been quite good at it…I don't smell a thing."

Iruka grinned. "I just used my head."

"That's the way. What did they do with the pelts?"

"Pelts?" Iruka's eyes widened. "I didn't kill them, I re-homed them. There was a whole family with little babies!"

"How on earth did you pull that off without getting sprayed?"

"Knocked 'em out with Kiwi gas," he said simply. "Just rolled the can under and waited til they were all asleep before I got them out."

She nodded. "Smart boy. So are your parents off on another mission?"

"They're due back today. I gotta get home and make sure everything's clockwork before they get there." He took his thumb and rubbed it absently at an old gouge in the glass of the countertop. "Then they leave again Wednesday."

"Well, they're fortunate to have you taking care of everything for them."

"Aw, thanks. Is there any help you needed today?"

"No, dear boy, not today."

"Okay, I should get going then. See you later!"

"Bye, Iruka-kun," she laughed softly at his energetic kick-turn and sprinting exit. As he went bounding out the door, she heard a gruff "Hey! Look out where you're going!" and Iruka's muffled apology, followed by the piff-piff-piff of his sandals as he darted back down the street.

"Damn little punk," grumbled Asuma, his fresh young face cranked down in a frown. He swaggered into the shop and towered over the counter and the wizened herbologist. "Pills, woman. Eight soldier one blood; then a vial of code-green 42 and a vial of the antidote."

"Hmph," she said in annoyance. Now THIS was the typical shinobi boy. Big for his britches. "No poisons under eighteen without a jounin card or an adult to sign for it."

"I'm over seventeen! That ought to be good enough for you!"

"Sorry, young man, but rules are rules." She held her hands out in a helpless shrug. Asuma scowled and stared her down for a moment, then left the shop without a word – no doubt to get his jounin sensei. The old woman smiled to herself…at least he didn't launch into his usual tirade about just who she thought she was and did she know who his father was and so on and so forth. She knew his father agreed with her, that the boy needed to learn just like everyone else.

Instead, a skinny, hardened boy she'd seen many times came in with Asuma behind him. Well, this was one other way around it. This boy, with his shock of white-blond hair, was only two or three years older than Iruka, yet he was a seasoned veteran and ranked at full jounin level. He was already battle-scarred and matured far beyond any youthful bravado. When she looked in his pale eye she already saw the toll that dealing death had taken. The ragged scar that striped his closed eye like some macabre harlequin's only added to what she felt was his air of tragedy. A child sacrifice to the gods of war, deflowered and devoured; and now he lived on, the skilled killing machine that had birthed from the remains.

He spoke with her quietly, which always surprised her no matter how many dozens of doses he'd purchased. He was just a touch uncomfortable in one-on-one dealings; at least in those where he wasn't dealing death.

He was one of the few things that sometimes made her question her chosen profession. No matter how she tried to warm up to the boy, to draw him out into at least the familiarity that a frequent customer has with a shopkeeper, he remained quiet and distant. Years of trying had no effect.

He handed her Asuma's order and the money, looking at her over his silk mask with a bored expectation of her usual small talk.

"This is your responsibility, then?" she asked, and he nodded predictably as Asuma's frown reappeared. He wasn't 'getting away' with anything. Kakashi was being held responsible as befit his rank.

She filled the order, holding up the vials to show them before bagging them. "This is a new size, the fluid amount is increased by half again, and the antidote is the same size as it was before but the strength is increased to compensate. Keep that in mind if you're dividing this up; you shouldn't combine the old and new formulas."

Kakashi nodded and they took the supplies wordlessly.

She reflected on the difficulty Iruka must have getting along with such eccentric and self-centered people.

On the other hand… later that day Kotetsu and Izumo came squeezing in the doorway giggling and shoving, treating her to their goofy, boyish enthusiasm…it wasn't so bad here really. For every dozen flint-hard, grim, difficult shinobi, there was a giggling, kindly diamond-in-the-rough as a silver lining.

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

_Big ol' a/n just a explanation about the timeline and missions – since the manga/anime have Konohamaru and his peers going out on 'missions' like cat-finding on their own while still students at the academy – and Konohamaru is said to be 9 or 10 at the time, I have placed Iruka in that same age track, as being approximately 10 at the end of the last chapter (Kakashi approx 13 Asuma approx 17 Kotetsu and Izumo approx 10). I have deemed him old enough to roofie skunks (mission rank: D?) on his own now. The academy kids also went out for training missions in groups as in the episode where Naruto takes Udon, Moegi & Kono and gets them lost and Iruka has to go look for them. Since Kakashi received Obito's eye and made jounin while the Fourth was still alive, and he is said to have made jounin at 12 or so, I have pieced together everyone's ages and activities as they appear in the story using main events to set up the timeline. The death of the Iruka's parents and the Fourth occurs during the sealing of the demon in the infant Naruto, if you subtract 12 (Naruto's age in the 1st chapter) from Iruka's age (anywhere from 22 to 24 in the 1st chapter; Kakashi's age ranges even wider: 24-27) he seems to have been about 10-11 at the time. It is a little contradictory to the way the manga/anime portray him as being orphaned at a very young age – sure, it's young, but some of his contemporaries are nearly living as adults by that age. It seems to be his unique warm personality that makes it so much more of a blow for him. Any and all of this is still arguable, every time I thought I had the definitive answer, there was another 'fact' or argument out there to contradict it… but in the end I had to stop waffling and settle on something in order to drop everyone into the timeline without being vague. Well, that was dull, wasn't it? I hope this chapter helps to wake you up…_

**Chapter 3**

The sky glowed orange and the air was charged with fear, death and destruction. The nine-tails attack had begun as foretold, and the village was in danger of falling to ruin.

Iruka's parents took several minutes to make their decision, and in the end they relied on cold facts for their determination. Iruka was not strong enough to be of benefit. The likelihood was too great that older shinobi would be distracted from fighting by a young boy sacrificing himself to the conflict. It caused Iruka's potential as a disruption to outweigh his benefit as a soldier on the battlefield.

His mother tallied the possibilities swiftly. The boy was a liability and could not be allowed to fight and die with them. It cut like a knife to deny this momentous honor to her boy but in issues of war her loyalties were to Konoha. She called to Iruka and instructed him to maintain the home as was his usual task while they went on this mission. There was no time now for a lengthy goodbye or explanation; she had already wasted too many precious minutes determining his fate. She clasped his hand hard and led him to the edge of their property as they left, one hand on her boy, one roaming to verify her weapons and tags were all at the ready

His father gave him a rough hug, earning him a confused and deeply frightened reaction from his son, and an angry, betrayed glare from his wife as the sight threatened her resolve. "Take care of the house, son. We're counting on you."

With eyes cast away she gave in and hugged him as well, a quick, hard embrace with no pause as she turned and launched into a sprint, matching stride-for stride with her mate.

The tone of finality in the man's voice, coupled with the open show of affection and the looks on their faces, quivered in Iruka's heart even after they disappeared from view. The wall of noise from the raging battle, far too close and frightening, rose and fell with huge inhuman roars and what sounded like the screams of men in terror or pain. It was unlike anything Iruka had ever heard, or even imagined, in his life.

He secured all the doors and windows of their empty home, taking his father's words to heart. He locked, latched, and used all his fledgling powers to properly perform the seals. Perhaps the battle was expected to reach the area here near their house, and Iruka would be called upon to defend their property. He swung up onto the porch roof, then scampered up to the highest point on the roofline. His fighting instincts were taking over at the thought of his parents engulfed in that danger, muting the fear, bringing his kunai to his palm in the urge to join the battle.

From the high vantage point he could see flames, bursts of exploding masonry and what he could swear were bodies being tossed like rag dolls, silhouetted by the red-orange glow.

It looked like the end of the world. His breath caught, and everything ground to a halt as it hit him.

That finality in his father's voice. They were going to face annihilation. They did not expect to come back.

Anger rose up in a black wave and Iruka ran full tilt and leapt the enormous distance to the next roof, abandoning his appointed task. A battle of this magnitude should be fought by every available shinobi, and they had left him out of it. He knew his parents perfectly well, and it didn't even enter his mind to be thankful that their decision would result in sparing his life. He knew the truth in an instant. They did not see him as being capable of making a significant contribution to the battle. Otherwise, they would have enlisted him to join them.

Another chorus of dying screams rose in the near distance and Iruka now armed himself with kunai in both hands, unsure what he was going to come up against but determined to make his mark. His parents were heading straight into this and he would surprise them, maybe save them, maybe make the pivotal difference in the battle, who could predict? His parents had taught him the ripple effect, the value of the smallest contribution. Damned if he would hide and do nothing to aid the village in this horrendous attack. Determination manhandled his fears into the back seat and pushed him straight into the fray.

He changed direction, hitting the ground with a slightly heavier impact than he'd intended. His speed picked up again as he rounded the corner of the last building standing before the conflagration. He had to stutter-step to line himself up and went to launch himself into a tall tree to gain a vantage point on the deafening battle. The heat radiating from the orange light singed his lungs and he was already dotted in sweat. It didn't break his concentration; with the raging chakra licking the air made it impossible to focus on anything but preparing to meet this onslaught.

That was how the older shinobi was able to catch him unaware. A powerful arm wrapped around him, snagging him out out if the air in mid-leap. He was gripped tightly to his captor's side, pinning his limbs as it caught him and began hauling him backwards, back in the direction he'd just come from, and he cried out in surprise and anger.

Someone was shouting to get the kids back and Iruka screamed in the jounin's ear, fighting to get loose but not inflicting any injury. It was a Konoha jounin, not an enemy, after all.

"Let me go!" he screamed, eyes starting to stream tears from the sting of the burning air. "My parents are fighting, I'm supposed to be fighting along with them! Let me go, let me fight!"

The jounin said nothing; he just let his iron grip and continued path away from the cataclysm speak for him. The struggle in his arms turned desperate, then despairing, then silent and unresisting.

By the time he deposited the boy with the other youngsters he appeared to be in shock. The sensei from the academy charged with overseeing the temporary shelter shoved Iruka back and gave him a quick, appraising look. He didn't look like a flight risk at the moment. The shinobi that delivered him here had already darted away to continue his urgent round-up. The sensei returned his attention to the very small children that were huddled and crying for their mothers.

He was wrong about the risk. Within minutes Iruka was sprinting away again.

The sound had lessened considerably. He traveled in a wide berth around the village proper to avoid being re-captured and finally made it back to his home. It took a while to get there and the faintest hope that his parents would be there waiting tweaked at his chest. He found it was still locked, empty, untouched. Even the sound of the fire was quieting steadily. Slipping from shadow to shadow he moved to follow his parents' path once more, approaching the ravaged battleground paying careful attention to his surroundings to remain undetected.

The glow now was from the dying fires, slowly being extinguished in the wake of the battle. Whatever force had attacked, had either been soundly defeated or forced to retreat.

But the carnage that Iruka came upon, under the portable lights being brought out to help deal with the aftermath, was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. Even the fantasy carnage from his mother's gruesome storybooks paled in comparison to the scenes his dark eyes absorbed that night. The stark glare and blackened shadows from the glaring artificial lights revealed a mural of death and horror painted in charred strokes of demonic holocaust.

He searched every face in the mopping-up operation, darting to see clearly any shinobi that might even vaguely be the right height, sex, hair-color…none of them, with their expressions ranging from horror to completely blank and everything in between, were the faces he desperately sought.

With the wish repeating over and over in his head that this next search would be fruitless as well, he began to look to the ground instead. Everywhere the dead and dying dotted the scorched landscape. He couldn't be sure if he would even know them if he saw them. Stomach acid fried his throat, rising from within, as the smoke stung his eyes and the stench assaulted his nose.

The flash of something familiar caught the corner of his eye. He did not want to look. He did not want to see. The corner of his eye told him just enough that all hope drained away. He turned his head to take in the sight and confirm what he already knew. There was no other option.

The horribly burned and twisted bodies of his parents lay at the base of a fallen tree. Iruka fell to his knees and his hands wrung over them in disbelief. He knew the boots, the rings, and the sword by heart – otherwise, he would not have connected these wretched corpses with any living thing he'd ever seen. Their faces were all but gone.

The inability to decide whether to touch them or not completely took over his conscious mind, and time came to a standstill. There were crews about, stripping the dead from the ashes and signaling frantically when a survivor was found. A crew came upon him, and he didn't react at all.

Careful hands were trying to lift him away, but he hadn't made his decision yet. Suddenly realizing they were making the decision for him, taking him out of reach, he lunged forward and his hands plunged through his parent's bodies instead of allowing him a final embrace. The burnt offerings that coated his hands and face made him freeze in horror; the once-gentle hands now grabbed him firmly and jerked him away before he could defile the dead any further.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" shouted a nameless voice in his grimy ear. Iruka clutched his face in his streaked hands and tried to twist away. Someone else was grabbing at him and he fought harder. "Kid, knock it off!"

They threw him hard, slamming his back against a tree, and he slid down, sitting in silence and staring at his hands. In his peripheral vision he was all too aware that they were removing his parents by _shoveling_ them up into the cart, their mortal remains so immolated that they no longer held together in any meaningful way when lifted from the scorched earth.

They were on his hands, his face, his arms, under his fingernails, in his nose…the realization heightened until he was afraid he would scream.

His mother would never forgive him if he did that.

As soon as they finished excavating the dead couple, the crew moved on, ignoring the boy they'd left against the tree since he no longer interfered with their task. The lights for the search moved along with them, and Iruka sat in the dark, reeking from the burnt flesh.

He couldn't bring himself to go home. Instead, he staggered in the direction of the crumbled marketplace, watching the flashlights searching the rubble. A thin hope rose to the surface of his mind and his feet, tripping on bricks and timbers, took him to the herbologist's store.

Or rather, the expanse of knee-high rubble where it once stood. Little was left of the historic old shop. Anxiety built again in Iruka's heart, and in the dim glow of the searcher's flashlight, the area was unrecognizable. His foot slipped on something that rolled, and he reached down and tugged at the thing he'd stepped on.

Partially crushed, it was a beaded chain with one earpiece from a pair of glasses still attached.

Too much had happened that night already, he had seen too much. This seized his gut with a final twist of sorrow to add to the shock of having his world vaporized in just a few hours time. He dropped the item and staggered away, ignored in the confusion and massive destruction.

He walked aimlessly, past the freshly-crumbled buildings and leveled pines, the burned apartments and flattened section of village wall. He finally reached a point beyond the destruction, where the forest remained unscathed. He walked even deeper, finally coming to the cold, clear water of a creek. Unmindful of the icy cold and the sharp rocks, he plunged in and scrubbed frantically with his fingernails until his arms and face were clean and free of that smell. He crawled out on hands and knees, over rocks and rough overgrowth, unable to feel the scraping and bruising.

There was nowhere to be, nothing he could conceive of to do. He was cut loose and set adrift, normal life disassembled.

He should be crying, grieving, concentrating on getting control of this new situation and perhaps even pulling himself together to go assist in the aftermath. Instead, he had overloaded and shut down as soon as they scooped up his entire family like so much manure from a stall. The glimmer of hope that came up when he thought of Mikoko-baachan had been crushed as well, his only other familial connection.

He gave up on the effort of hands and knees and wobbled down flat on his stomach, face nestled on his arm in the damp weeds. He lay still, staring into the dark night, mind mercifully blank.

By noon the next day, feeling the bugs crawling here and there in his abused clothing, he began to have a random thought or two again.

The first and most pervasive thought was that this was proof that he was completely alone and uncared for now. There was no one to miss him. No one to realize he hadn't gone home, that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Not a soul. When he got up, it would be up to him to make it happen. If he was injured and unable to get home, he might die before someone ran across him by accident. If he called for help, strangers would be his only salvation.

So it was up to him. He had to get up.

But he didn't want to. To go home to an empty house, to face the loss in the cold light of reality, or normalcy…no.

Just…no. Not now, not yet…maybe not ever.

o0o0o0o0o0o

His stomach was screaming like a brat and the sun was tracking down preparing to set when he gave up and stood, stiff and sore and itchy and thirsty and hungry. He stumbled back slowly, retracing his steps, too numbed and dazed to remember there would be security to deal with. The result was a close call, nearly getting his head knocked off by the guards when he approached the fallen stretch of wall.

The elder Aburame had to look three times before he recognized the Umino kid. Once he did, things added up quickly. He'd witnessed where the Uminos fell, faceless numbers among the dead.

"Iruka? Where are you headed, son?" Shibi eyed the boy closely.

But Iruka kept walking without reaction. The jounin's firm hand swept down to catch him by the upper arm. Prevented from moving past, Iruka stood with arms and head hanging down heavily.

"Iruka…" Did the boy know already? The senior bug jounin realized there was insect life in the young man's clothes, so much so that he couldn't possibly be unaware of it. He didn't seem to be injured, but his mental condition…yes, very likely the boy knew.

The dark head remained bowed and silent.

"Do you know, boy?"

Iruka's head nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. His voice was small. "I saw."

"You saw…" Aburame swallowed. "Well, then."

"Going home." Iruka pulled away, not struggling, just making his wishes clear.

In the aftermath, a boy with no serious injuries and a safe home to return to was hardly a priority. The jounin reluctantly let him go. "Sorry about your family."

Iruka, free to move on, nodded again as he trudged away.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

_Oops, long delay, but a longer chapter - does that make up for it?_

**Chapter 4**

After slogging up the steps Iruka found himself face-to-face with the door of his family home. A thousand times before he had passed this spot, without a moment's pause or thought. But today the sight was overwhelming; it mocked him with its emptiness, in stark contrast with the safe, welcome feeling that arriving here had meant until now.

His gaze wavered unsteadily and his stomach suddenly tightened into an icy lump. With a shock of shame he found that he couldn't remember what traps and seals he'd set. Some of them he'd set up as deadly, in the heat of the moment. Now if he didn't remember and unseal them correctly, he'd destroy the home that meant so much to his parents. They had left him behind to guard it time after time and nothing like this had ever happened before.

Panic rose and flooded his numb body and mind, adding to the urgency to get inside. He was supposed be fully in charge here or he was derelict in his duty. Desperation made him start to grab for the door handle despite the seal still actively blocking his entrance and the tags set to defend against any intrusion.

"Don't ever panic!" shrieked his mother's voice in his head.

He jerked his hand back and it flew to his face. He was beyond simple self-control; he bit down on his hand hard to discipline it. There was no one to slap him for his transgressions now. He would have to police himself. He turned and sat down hard with his back to the door, trying to further remove the temptation to just blunder in no matter what the result.

The indeterminate number of minutes spent sitting and chewing on his hand were actually well-spent. By the time he was getting a morbidly fascinating amount of blood from punishing the edge of his palm, he was calmed and fairly certain of his ability to gain entrance to the house without detonating it. The secondary releases, he'd forgotten about them in his panic. The ones always set to enable his parents to defuse his defenses should they arrive home when he wasn't around. The signs for that were always the same; Iruka never used them in case he was observed, to keep them secure for re-use; but he knew them by heart.

When the door opened without a massive explosion, there was a microsecond of hesitation before he dove in and slammed it shut so hard that he startled himself.

The bang of the door echoed in the entry and reverberated throughout the still of the house. It was darkened inside, the curtains and blinds all drawn, the electricity still off since the attack. The moment he realized the power was off, his long-standing responsibility to the house took over. It spurred him into action and saved him from having to contemplate his situation beyond the practical.

He hurried to the kitchen and pulled out a trash bag, feverishly dumping what he knew would be spoiled food out of the refrigerator, poking a questing finger in to various items in the freezer. Most everything had thawed, but some of the larger, dense items were still quite cold. Those few things he pulled out and set aside, diligently emptying everything perishable and working until the bag was full and the appliance was spotless and empty.

Some ice and water had dribbled on the floor, so then he had to mop after carrying out the trash. The cold items perspired on the countertop, so he cleaned them as well. He thought somehow that something has gotten on the wall and he went after the woodwork and wallboard next.

By the time the sun was setting he was rubbing wood oil on the cabinets and squinting to make sure he wasn't leaving streaks. Exhaustion overtook him and he went to rest for a moment, sitting on the kitchen floor in the waning light, and ended up curled up in a ball on the cold tile to sleep through the night.

When he woke up with a start, the morning sun was slashing in and he jumped up, frustrated. He'd meant to barbecue the food from the freezer and get as much as he could under his belt, since he had no real idea how he was going to provide for himself yet or how long it would be before the gas and power returned. Now it was too late, the extra night of sitting out had ruined the last of the lot.

He bagged the spoiled items and hauled them out as well, returning to clean the counter yet again. When he could see his face in the gleaming surface he moved on, polishing the kitchen table, the chairs, dropping everything and running to polish the chrome of the faucet in the kitchen, then the bath. Once in the bath he was distracted by the fixtures, pouring raw bleach and scrubbing until his chewed-up hands bloomed with blisters, his lungs burned and his back ached.

He shoved down the panic as he remembered he hadn't finished in the kitchen. He wiped furiously at the mirror, torn between starting on the woodwork in the bath and returning to finish the kitchen.

Then he remembered seeing dirt in the entryway.

Hours of distraught cleaning and darting from room to room later, he stood swaying in front of the cabinet with the glasses. He need to drink water, but…if he touched a glass and used it, it would be dirty…and he'd have to wash it…and then clean the sink…and the handles of the faucet…and dry it with a towel that he'd have to wash…and then oil the cabinet again where his fingers had been. And in that time between the drink and the clean up, his parent's kitchen would be dirty, and he would not be doing his job.

But he hadn't had so much as a drop of water since he began his work this morning. His mind clicked and he used a clean towel to twist the doorknob and step out onto the back porch. He used the garden hose and drank deeply for some time.

He shuddered at the thought of the urination this action would eventually produce and havoc it would play with his spotless bathroom.

When the sun went down, the power suddenly came on, the radio crackling and shooting Iruka up from his dazed rest on the living room floor. It heralded an all-night linen-washing and vacuuming spree.

By the morning Iruka's swollen mind decided the house was finally clean. The only thing left in it that was dirty and in need of removal was Iruka himself.

He packed up his travel bag and made a major effort to seal the house so thoroughly even he might not be able to re-enter it without the secondary release. It had to be great; it had to show his parents that he met their last expectations flawlessly.

He heard someone coming and started to duck behind the house. But it was Shibi Aburame, and Iruka watched him enter the yard warily.

"Iruka, are you going somewhere? The ceremony for the fallen heroes is this afternoon. I wasn't sure if you knew. Come out from there, I was just going to knock on the front door and I sensed you were here in back."

Iruka lowered his head and came forward reluctantly.

"I didn't notice how badly your hands had been injured!"

Iruka's hands flew behind his back. "They're not."

"Let me see them. Umino, I am your superior, show me your hands."

With a shuddering sigh, he brought them forward and held them out as ordered.

"Those look like chemical burns." He tipped up his dark glasses for a moment while he studied the blisters. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I was cleaning, that's all."

The older man frowned at the impressions he was getting from the boy.

"Are you here alone now?" Shibi saw the wince at those words. "No aunts or uncles, grandparents, cousins?"

The dark head bowed lower and shook in a negative reply.

"Maybe it would be better if you came back to my home after the memorial. You can lend us a hand by watching the baby, and I'll make sure you get a hot meal."

Iruka glanced up for a second at the word 'baby'.

"He's almost a year old now, I think it would be something to help get your mind off things. Just come with me after the service. You are going to the service, right? It's for your parents as well as many others."

Iruka nodded. He hadn't known, and a part of him wished he had missed it because of ignorance, because he dreaded the thought of being in a crowd of people right now. But the jounin sounded very sincere, and there was no reason to doubt him, although it was a little unsettling not to be able to see the man's eyes behind those dark lenses.

And he hadn't threatened to enter the house, allowing Iruka to relax slightly. The bug jounin placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You can come with me now and then accompany my family to the memorial. I have a few more kids to check in on, but you can come along."

Iruka ducked back, pulling out of his reach. "No thanks."

"Very well, I won't force you to come now. But you will come with me afterwards. Don't be late to the ceremony, it's disrespectful. It starts promptly at two o'clock. I'll see you there, Iruka-kun, I have to get going." The Aburame went back out through the gate regretfully. He sent a test pulse through the insects on his body back to the one he had deposited on the child when he touched his shoulder. The bugs clicked off in silent harmony. Satisfied, the jounin returned to his list, heading for the next orphaned child to check on their status and equip them with a kikaichu insect, too, if his assessment pinned them as needing to be monitored.

o0o0o0o0o

The solemn ceremony seemed to take an eternity to get started. He didn't fidget. This was one of his mother's wishes; that he would not ever fidget. He didn't cry. That, also, was his mother's wish. He made his face an impassive mask as much he could. His waif-like look and minimal nourishment for three days made it a rather sad and sickly mask at best.

He couldn't keep the mask up and the tears away if he let the things his father wished for him rise to the surface of his thoughts. So, for the sake of decorum, he focused rigidly on his memory of his mother and her relentless training. On what she would do to him if she were still alive and he made some slip at the ceremony. It firmed his lower lip and put a trace of solidity in his backbone.

The Sandaime Hokage, forced back into power by the tragic events, spoke for some time and Iruka managed to hold his composure. The effort required so much of his attention that he did not recognize a single word the Third uttered. When his parents were mentioned during the reading of the list of the many heroes being interred, Iruka barely heard them. His lack or reaction further concerned Shibi, watching in his periphery from his family's section further forward. Iruka sat flanked by adult strangers, not even shinobi, and was staring fixedly at the back of the seat in front of him. When the final moment of silence ended with everyone standing, heads bowed, the elder Aburame startled to see an empty space where Iruka had been. He hastily handed the toddler to his wife and moved through the slowly moving sea of mourners, searching.

He called to the kikaichu and the response came from the direction of the trees nearby. The special jounin was beside the boy in the blink of an eye.

"Forgetting something?" he asked mildly. Iruka jerked around to stare at him, dry-eyed and unsteady.

"Come with me, boy."

Iruka turned away again and bowed his head.

"It's not a request." The large hand wrapped around a thin, wiry arm and tugged. For a moment, he detected fear, then shame at being afraid. Shibi shook his head, frowning. "Come on, now. Don't break rank."

When he pulled gently the boy yielded this time, stumbling at first, shaking just detectably even though he was suppressing it as fiercely as his overwrought body could. As they walked they passed the wreckage of the shops and there was a moment of resistance, but the bug jounin thought better of pausing at whatever it was that was bothering Iruka about the area.

Inside the Aburame grounds, the dark fronds of the insect-friendly gardens seemed to hover ominously with strange and exotic plants. Small, erratic motion was detectable everywhere. Normally, Iruka would have been delighted and fascinated. Today, he flinched and looked away, only wanting to leave as soon as possible.

No one was standing guard over the house while he was here. He needed to get back and set up camp in the yard, make sure no one came too near.

A small squeak caught his attention and the chubby, dark-fringed toddler came boldly forward, lower lip out in determination.

His father hovered near, not quite trusting Iruka's state of mind.

A small finger pointed at the scarred nose. "Owie."

"Huh?" Iruka's hand went to his face. "Oh. Yeah."

"This is Shino, my son. Shino, this is Iruka."

"Hi Irka."

"Umino Iruka," he corrected, swallowing at the surname. Last of the Uminos, at the moment.

"Sure." The kid was too smart to try for that mouthful. "How?" The hand pointed to his nose again.

Iruka's forehead knotted. Somehow, that story that he'd heard and retold himself a hundred times at least fled his mind completely. "I don't remember."

Shibi leaned over and removed his sunshades, then peered into the dark eyes.

"Iruka, you know. I was there, too. The spider in the kitchen..?"

"He bit me?" Iruka looked dazed. "One of your spiders?"

"No, no, you must remember, I know I've heard you talk to your Dad about that day."

"Dad?" Iruka asked in a lost, puzzled voice, eyes wandering.

"Where's your Dad?" Shino piped up.

"No, son, that's enough. Iruka's very tired and I don't think he's had much to eat. Come on, Iruka, park it on the mat. Shino, move your blocks so he doesn't sit on them."

Sitting cross-legged, Iruka nodded thanks for the cup of water Shino's mother handed him and stared as the little boy patted her leg possessively. Wincing away at the rough straightening up he expected the mother to deliver at any minute, he stole a look back as he heard a small huff of breath. The woman had given the little boy a hug instead, which he received with obviously fake reluctance. Iruka looked away from their odd behavior, and drank the water dutifully. Maybe now he could leave.

"Sit back down. Where do you think you're going?"

"Home. I need to go home."

The two adults traded looks.

"Eat first. Rest a while until it's ready."

"Be good," warned Shino. One eyebrow boinked up seriously.

"All right." Iruka sighed and sat slumped down, resting his elbows on the floor in front of him. Shino wandered closer and put a hand on his ponytail.

When Iruka seemed resigned to his fate, the parents slipped into the kitchen, keeping an eye on the two boys through the doorway.

"You should take him to the infirmary, dear, did you see his hands?"

"They still have critical patients parked in the hallways. I'll give him some first aid after we make sure he eats. I can't really hold him here against his will. He's almost eleven years old, although he doesn't look it. But at least we can get a meal into him for now."

In the living area, Shino gave an impulsive tug to the thick, soft hair. "Bug thief!"

Iruka looked back. "Am not."

Shino's little hand plucked into his hair quickly, coming away with a kikaichu relieved to be back with a clan member. "Are too. See?"

Iruka shivered with indignance and anger. No wonder Aburame-sama had found him so quickly.

"You keep it. Don't tell and I'll play a game with you."

Shino ran away and for a moment Iruka thought he was going to tell on him. But the little legs came pattering back and an armload of more building blocks cascaded onto the mat. "Play!"

The two boys built things side by side, Shino making impressive four and five block stacks with the deadly seriousness of a surgeon, while Iruka carefully constructed a building, in his imagination a little shop of adobe brick, with a kindly lady selling herbs inside. If he built it well enough it would withstand anything and protect her. He reached and found the bucket of toy ninjas and stationed them all round, then on the edge of every offset brick, then all over the roof. He used every one until the blocks were almost obliterated with defending shinobi. He kept out one ninja to stand in front, to guard all of them.

If this had waited a year, maybe two, he could have been powerful enough to fight on the front lines and make a difference. To stand in the front and die honorably, making the sacrifice that saved everyone else. His mother foretold it often, up until a couple of years ago when she began to doubt him.

Too weak. Too weak to even man the reserves. Just stay home and keep house. Just a distraction. Just a useless child still.

The little shop of blocks wavered in his watery eyes and he tightened up hard, shoving down the self-indulgent urge to cry. They had died disappointed in him. So disappointed they left him behind alone. He didn't deserve pity or caring or help. He was weak enough already without the temptation of those crutches.

"Irka?" Shino asked, patting his shoulder and holding the bug again. He leaned in and whispered. "Want?"

"No. We made a deal."

"What deal?" Shibi asked, crossing the room with two steaming bowls. His wife came with another bowl, and a plate with several small portions of finger foods for Shino.

"Just to play," Iruka muttered, looking at the bowl offered to him as if it would bite. When it became clear he would have to take it, he did, and it smelled like something his mother would make for him when he'd done some thing she approved of. His throat squeezed shut and his empty stomach rolled. She would have served him dry bread and little else in reward for being useless again. If she knew he was eating like this after everything that happened…

"What is it, Iruka?"

He lifted the porcelain soup spoon and watched the liquid flow back into the bowl. "It smells too good." He started to hand the bowl back.

"Eat it. That's an order." Shibi said firmly without raising his voice. He sat on the mat at the low table across the room, his own bowl in one hand, watching closely.

Iruka shivered so hard the broth sloshed dangerously. He forced a spoonful into his mouth while Shino crunched noisily on a rice cracker, fascinated. The whole experience was interesting, he'd never had anyone who would sit on his play mat and eat with him on the floor instead of at the table.

Iruka offered a spoonful to the tyke and the adults held their tongues instead of chastising him to eat his own meal. Shino grinned and slurped, dribbling messily down his chin. Iruka used a thumb to wipe away the drips carefully the first time. A clumsy, moist hand shoved a slightly-mauled rice cracker into Iruka's face and he ate it politely, offering another sip of soup.

Eventually, they fed each other at the expense of the mat, dribbles of soup and crumbs of cracker littering their laps and the lightly patterned tatami. Shino began to droop in sudden sleepiness once he was full. Iruka jumped to his feet when the mother picked her little one up, brushing crumbs into his hand and moving uncertainly into the kitchen with his bowl and Shino's plate, searching for some thing to clean the mat with.

"I have to go," Iruka said nervously, running warm water over a cleaning cloth before wringing it expertly. The water brightened the raw hands into a harsh glowing red.

After wiping down the spots on the tatami, he rinsed the cloth again under hotter water.

"Stop, you're making your hands worse. Here." Shibi fished the first aid kit out of the cabinet. "Let me."

The man was gentle and efficient, his hands reminding Iruka of his father until he berated himself for the thought. What, now every adult man is going to make me heartsick for my father? How pathetic. He waited stiffly for the ointments and frowned at the latex gloves.

"What's that for?"

"It'll keep them clean and protected and it beats giant wraps of cotton gauze. Just leave that on for a couple of days; here, take a couple of extra pair, and change into them tomorrow morning, or if they get torn or removed sooner."

"Thank you for the food and fixing my hands, Aburame-sama. Now I have to go, please thank your family as well." Breathless from squeezing out so many words when he would have preferred to be silent, Iruka fell to his knees and went to put the plastic toy ninjas back in their container.

When his knee hit the mat, the little building collapsed. For a moment his eyes locked on the resulting tumble of blocks and bodies, his hands hovered, his breath held. A few more moments passed before he could move again. Then he hurriedly threw the figurines in their clear bucket, screwing on the giant lid and pushing it aside, pawing the blocks into a pile and irrationally feeling panic that he had no place to put them.

Shibi handed him a canvas bag and Iruka gratefully stuffed the blocks into it, bringing the space into order.

"You're welcome here any time, Iruka. Understand? I'd like you to come back."

Iruka scratched his head then jerked his arm down, not wanting to call attention to the fact that he knew about the bug and that it was no longer planted on him.

As soon as the door opened he darted out before the man could put more bugs on him.

Running home put him past his limit, and the effort to check every door and window from the outside was more than he could do, but he did it, because he had to. Task completed, he sank down on the cold stone patio and fell into exhausted sleep, deferring his much-needed breakdown for another day.

o0o0o0o0o

Two days after the memorial service, the façade of the Umino home shone like a new coin. The windows sparkled, the porches were spotless and the brass on all of the door handles had been polished to perfection. Kickplates looked like golden mirrors and the doors and window frames looked like new.

The grounds were raked, trimmed, weeded and watered. He'd found a proper lock for the gate and was experimenting with perimeter booby-trap tags to lace the expanses of fence with.

Earlier he had managed to successfully conceal himself so that Shibi thought he was not home. He was extremely proud of having fooled the special jounin. But as he finished his string of tags and let his chakra seep in to arm them, everything got slightly dim. His last real meal was at the Aburame's. He needed to find some food.

He could go in the house and get some money and buy some. Seemed straightforward enough. But every time the reached for the doorknob, he stopped. The list of things he would disrupt with the simple act of going inside and retrieving the money seemed endless. He stood for some time at the back door, and then turned away. He gathered his waning strength and made the familiar flip to the rooftop, then sprinted to the farthest eave and leapt, landing clear of his property. With a tired but determined stride he headed for the village wall.

The woods around Konaha were filled with edible flora and fauna, and the "unequipped survival" unit at the academy had been one of Iruka's favorite. Getting out of the village was easier than he had anticipated; the wall had been decimated in too many places for it to be watched completely. Stealth was by far one of young Iruka's best talents.

Soon he was nibbling on bitter reindeer moss and walking purposefully in the direction of the easternmost stream, where barehanded fishing was easy due to the clear water of the dead zones by the bank. Several varieties of edible, although not very tasty, succulent water plants grew there as well. If he was lucky, he might find water chestnuts and spatterdock. He couldn't imagine how anyone would have difficulty living in the forests as far as eating was concerned. Everywhere you looked, there was something growing or growling that you could eat just fine.

He was settling by the clear water, quiet and still, when he heard a slight motion in the underbrush directly behind him. He drifted his chakra out carefully, recoiling at the familiar feel of human presence. He turned slowly, trying to be casual and conceal the fact that he noticed someone was approaching.

Whoever was coming might be trying to be sneaky, but if they were, they weren't very good at it. Iruka braced for attack, but the brush rustled and a taller boy stepped boldly into sight, watching him curiously.

"Hey. What're you up to?" the boy frowned, walking closer without caution.

Iruka hunched defensively, turning to face him as the other boy moved, keeping him in full view.

"I said, what are you doing here? This is my spot, so you better have a good answer," the boy challenged.

His dark eyes flashed as Iruka began detailing his surroundings in reflex, scoping in on escape routes and noting obstacles to avoid in a chase or fight.

One more step and the taller boy was looking down at him. "I've seen you before. You go to the academy. So don't think that you can play dumb and I'll just go away."

Iruka swallowed. "It's not anybody's place. And I was fishing."

"Without a pole?" The boy scratched the cloth tied over his head. "Are you stupid?"

"You don't need a pole to fish!"

"Prove it."

Iruka hesitated. He didn't want to turn his back to this stranger, but he felt strangely compelled to show this kid that he wasn't stupid.

"I knew it. You're lying." He leaned closer, staring. "You look sick. What's wrong with you, kid?"

"Don't call me kid. You're just a kid, too. Come over here and I'll prove what I said to you." Iruka's lip began to tighten and his temper was warming up for the first time since the village was attacked.

He turned and kneeled by the stream, relieved when he saw the other pair of knees land next to him.

"Well? What…"

"Shhh…you have to be still and quiet. Don't move." After a while, a few little fingerlings moving in the stream came to rest by the bank, out of the current. In a flash Iruka's hands dipped and he threw the water that his cupped hands captured behind him. A tiny fish writhed on the leaves.

He blushed at the roar of laughter, the other boy's nearly white blond hair contrasting with the reddening of his cheeks as he convulsed.

"You call that little thing a fish?" he gasped, eyes tearing.

Iruka silently pinched the fish to kill it and swallowed it whole. He waited in irritation for silence. That tiny bit of fish didn't do much to help his hunger.

The amused eyes took on an almost sympathetic look. "I get it." He rummaged in his pack and held out a flat, dark strip. "Here. I have plenty. You look like you need it."

Iruka took the jerky and looked unsure. "Thanks."

Eventually they exchanged names, and Iruka ended up with a fistful of jerky courtesy of his new friend. The pair of fat fish that they caught with the pole the larger boy stored hidden in the stand of bamboo sizzled over a small fire, and Iruka almost smiled when a helpful hand steadied him on the slippery side of the bank.

After the tasty fish was gone and Iruka's stomach was dangerously full, he began to get drowsy. His new friend was tired, too. They sprawled on the soft grassy bank.

"I do whatever I want, but I've seen you with your ma. You better be getting back, shouldn't you?"

Iruka stopped breathing for a few beats. He shook his head no, but said nothing. A finger pushed into his shoulder, as if testing him for doneness.

"You running away?" The older boy rolled onto his stomach and propped up on his elbows to gaze curiously.

"No. I…I was left behind."

Mizuki's voice grew softer. "You're all alone? What happened?" He watched that interesting new face try unsuccessfully to hide some very painful emotions.

"The demon." His eyes were far away, staring into the sky without blinking. "Didn't you see it? Weren't you there?"

"No. I was coming in from a mission with my team. By the time we got in the fighting was over and we were pulled in to search for survivors. It was horrible. Your mother…?"

"And father."

"Man, that's too bad. Who do you live with now?"

"Just me."

"Really…huh. You have an apartment or something? Are you going to be able to afford to stay in it?"

Iruka's brow furrowed. In all his diligent caretaking and defending the home, it hadn't occurred to him that he was ignoring a bigger threat. Maybe the village would take his home back. His hands came to his face and he wished he'd never heard a word this Mizuki kid said. Maybe, no matter how hard he tried, he was destined to fail his parent's final request.

"Iruka?"

"I don't know. I have a house now, but it's sealed up, so maybe they won't be able to take it."

"Unless you're sealed up inside it, what good does that do you?"

"I have the back porch."

"Ohhh…hm." Mizuki thought this kid was either very strange or understandably unbalanced from his tragic loss and sudden free fall. Maybe both. He had to have the biggest, brownest eyes in the whole world, and when Mizuki looked in them, his heart skipped a beat. He felt an instant connection with this boy, foreshadowed by the casual interest he had felt when seeing him darting around the academy clutching his books and papers, serious yet joyful in his studies.

Mizuki had tolerated academy life well enough at Iruka's age, but since earning his hitai-ate he disliked the advanced classroom courses. He much preferred the rush of the hunt and the opportunity to use his cunning and wield his ever-increasing power. He was up for the exam again this year. His sensei was sure he would pass this time; he was forceful and unswerving in his drive to complete his missions successfully. The first thought that had occurred to him when he reached the ravaged, burning carnage that was Konoha in the nine-tail's aftermath, was that they might postpone this year's chunin exams and rob him of his victory.

It pissed him off so much he was throwing those dead bodies into the cart. His sensei, mistaking it for a reaction to the traumatic sight, tried to relieve him from duty, but he shook him off. He wanted someone to punish for the possibility of remaining genin when he deserved to be chunin. The dead were as guilty as anyone.

He touched the younger boy's shoulder again, and he didn't seem to mind that. He seemed lost in the world and lost in his heart right at the moment.

"You'll be all right. Look, if you need help, just come ask me. I'm out on missions quite a bit, but when I'm in the village I usually hang out here late in the day. Like I said, this is my spot. But, you know, if you want, it can be your spot, too."

Iruka found it hard to believe that he really heard those words correctly. Mizuki was much bigger, stronger, experienced at hard missions and older, too. Why would someone like that help him? But the voice was so kind, almost like Mikoko-baachan, and the little touches on his shoulder reminded him of the secret hugs he shared with his father when he really was too old for them. It made his heart ache for all he'd lost, and it left him blank at the thought of getting close to anyone else. It didn't seem possible. And yet, Mizuki had appeared out of nowhere, and now he wasn't alone in the deepening twilight.

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

_Awp, kinda short and slow arriving - it's been a difficult time to get any writing done, but that seems to be improving...many thanks for reading, and gold stars for reviewing!_

**Chapter 5 **

Iruka couldn't help but admire this generous young shinobi, but he was probably just being polite, offering to meet him here. He figured that it wouldn't be likely that they would actually hang out together again. Someone like Mizuki certainly would have more important things to do than watch some pathetic academy student fail at his only task.

His mind tripped over that thought. Fail. Somehow he was thinking something like that now?

"No comment?" prompted the white-haired boy, leaning over him. Iruka hadn't noticed him slide closer and sit up, closing the distance between them.

"I'm sorry. Yes, please, I'd like to come back here with you sometime."

"How about tomorrow? I can bring you some food from home. The old lady'll never miss it."

Iruka blinked in surprise. In the muted light Mizuki's features made him look like some recruiting poster, upright and handsome. When the strong hand came back to his shoulder, that polite yet somehow very personal contact reapplied, Iruka melted just a tiny bit. A plan to meet? Something sort of good to look forward to?

"When?" Iruka asked, his voice a touch hopeful.

"Eh, I'm on early guard duty at the east wall damage, I'll probably be stuck there all day. I ought to be out of there by four. If I go by home first, I'd say I'll be here about five or so? If I'm not here yet, wait for me, okay?" Mizuki released the thin shoulder and dared to slip a hand into that intriguing ponytail, just feeling the texture and weight of the hair.

"Yeah." The light touch to his hair gave Iruka a sudden chill down his spine and he shivered, shaking his head away from the ticklish feeling with a half-smile.

"So, great. Go then. See you back here." Mizuki watched, assessing, as Iruka rose unsurely and gave a poorly concealed look of apprehension at the darkening forest. An uncomfortable minute ticked by, then another. The brunette's embarrassment at showing weakness in front of the older boy grew the longer he stood frozen in place, but he was gathering his courage to go as quickly as he could.

Once he was certain Iruka recognized the great difficulty he was having making himself move into the night, Mizuki grinned. "Look, kid, I should go too…let's walk together, eh?" He was rewarded with a couple of things he hoped that small manipulation would produce. One, Iruka looked grateful and this was surely cementing him in the younger boy's mind as a trusted friend, perhaps a protector; and two, Mizuki could find out where Iruka lived without arousing any suspicion as to why he wanted to know. Truth was, he didn't know exactly why he wanted to know. But he did. He wanted to know everything he could about Iruka. Funny, Iruka accepted being called "kid" now, too. Already learning who the alpha dog was.

Mizuki wasn't sure why his hands kept wanting to touch the boy, and his arm was slung across that cute neck as they walked before he had time to analyze the impulse. He was like a magnet, with an invisible field that pulled irresistibly. And why resist it anyway? He was a self-proclaimed throw-away, making him free for the taking. Mizuki was a bit of a loner, but having this particular boy for his protégé might not be a bad idea. He might be useful.

They got to Iruka's home and Mizuki feigned disinterest while carefully taking in the way Iruka released the traps to enter the yard. The house seemed decent enough, the grounds average-sized. Not a huge clan compound, like the Inuzakas or the Aburame's, but adequate for a small family without kennels or apiaries.

From what he knew about Konoha's economic council and civil government, the kid was about to become a resident of an orphanage or homeless anyway. The Umino property was desirable and Iruka would be in no political position to stop them from repossessing it. They would likely take any remaining assets the couple had and seize them as offset for the expense of providing shelter for their son at the orphanage. Never mind that the house alone would probably equal a hundred times more than the cost of Iruka's care. The excuse would be what the excuse always was: the 'excess' money was needed to help with recovery from the most recent disaster, for the greater good.

Things like that did not make Mizuki angry. It did, however, adjust his mindset. One of the basic tenets of shinobi training was that Konoha was inherently good and therefore worthy of defending to the death to perpetuate. He made his own judgment based on observed fact, one he was wise enough to keep to himself. Konoha was a greedy, controlling, bloodthirsty civilization. There was just enough 'good' that the upper echelons, the ANBU, jounin and sannin, had a proper existence. But anyone below that level bore the brunt of the shit with poor compensation. The boring, the tedious, and the filthy duties all fell to the ranks below, and they were at the mercy of the Hokage and his upper-level cronies.

Mizuki knew, therefore, that it didn't pay to be anything less than jounin as a Konoha citizen. Deep inside he had already decided that if he didn't make jounin, he would find another life outside the Leaf village walls. It would help to have someone close to watch his back and assist with training, whichever way his career and citizenship path went. Iruka seemed malleable enough, and had a strange attractiveness that was hard to pinpoint. His parents had been exceptional shinobi, two of the best in the village, so he should be a capable partner. And fate had delivered him in an unnaturally vulnerable state straight into Mizuki's lap.

Who was he to question the forces unseen? In the same way that his assessment of Konoha was permanently fixed in his mind, suddenly Iruka's place in his life clicked in as well. Iruka was his second. It was a done deal and Mizuki went forth on that assumption from that moment on.

"You should pack up the things you want to keep. Things that are important to you. I'll help you stash them away where no one can find them."

The statement seized Iruka's attention. Did Mizuki think he couldn't secure his own house? "In case of a break in?" he asked skeptically.

"No. But the officials will want to inspect the premises, or search for booby traps, or some lame excuse, and they'll take whatever they want that isn't nailed down. If they don't just flat take the whole place first. Look, do you want me to go in with you to make sure its safe?"

Iruka balked. "Not going in. I told you."

"You better. Get in and get your stuff and stash it somewhere safe, don't say I didn't warn you!" Mizuki shrugged and shoved his hand in his pockets, a sullen look crossing his face. "Later."

Iruka sealed the gate behind him, pacing back to the porch, wringing his hands helplessly. No matter how hard he wracked his brain, the answer never came. He was a shinobi on orders, orders that were his parent's dying wishes. How could he fail at it so quickly? He didn't know anything about public domain, or village politics, or property taxes.

Taxes. Money. His family's savings. Of course! As long as he paid for everything, whatever that everything might be, they should leave him alone, right? He knew where they kept the money. Banks were for civilians and other incautious, overly-trusting fools. In the master bedroom the family floor vault held all their monetary valuables and the massive cedar chest held the irreplaceable family heirlooms.

But he'd have to take the risk of going inside to get it. For a second, he had regrets over sending Mizuki away. Setting his young jaw, he moved to undo one portal of his otherwise iron-clad security. He released the tags from the back door, sapping away the chakra charge. His keys fumbled and he almost dropped them, nervously unlocking the bolt and holding his breath as he stepped in.

It was dark but he didn't consider turning on a light. The sad feeling of shattered familiarity hit him like a brick even without most of the visual clues. His feet were ingrained with the layout, and he immediately oriented and moved through the silent space without looking around. The floor vault was set in his parent's closet, under the bamboo planks. Without having to think about it, he defeated the trick trap on the bedroom door, flicked on the lights and made the proper steps on entering the room to avoid the touch-trigger for the overhead grid. He found himself standing face-to-face with the closet door and stared at it for some time; but suddenly, he lost his resolve.

Instead, he was drawn to his parent's bed, clouding over with sadness. He remembered a night years ago when he had been allowed in here briefly, the rarity of that indulgence creating one of those oddly crystal clear moments in time. His mother had been in her night robe, moving about this room and going over the things she expected him to do the next day. He had been staring at his toes with his legs in the air, flaked out comfortably on his back on the huge bed that smelled of his parents favorite bath soap, feeling pleased and secure. His dad had been in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and adding a comment here and there. It was the first time they'd decided to leave him alone to guard the house, and they let him in their room as a rare treat as they went over their expectations in detail. It was one of his all-time favorite memories, and it hit him hard now.

He took a moment to compose himself and remember to be the reasonable, responsible son of those two elite shinobi. He could not afford to be impulsive or careless. He had to admit that he was not up to this now. It was late, he was tired, and he was upset. The closet was going to have protections on it. The floor vault was trapped and sealed beyond a doubt. It would have to wait until morning.

He forced down the urge to leave and preserve the sanitation of the house. His tired, aching heart longed to stay here and just be with the things associated with life when it was normal and familiar and reliable. So instead of leaving, he unrolled the thick comforter, intensely aware that the last things nestled in it had been warm, alive, and everything to him. He rolled himself back into it and absorbed the imagined residual warmth until he fell into a restless sleep.

At daybreak he rose, still tired. Throughout the night, he woke up and worried over his situation over and over. Mizuki's warnings would not stop eating away at him. He had to get this resolved now, before it drove him crazy. After rolling up the bedding and storing it away, he set his mind on the reason he had come to be in this room in the first place.

It made his hands shake and the bile rise in his throat to smell the familiar scent of this closet, of oiled steel, old leather and ignition tags. The clothes were still hanging as if nothing was out of order. The empty sleeve of a combat jacket brushed his cheek when he knelt to lift the boards, and he swiped it away urgently, as if it were a stinging insect.

He disarmed the obvious initial tag. Beyond it, he found the hidden seal. Although it was of expert-level complexity, he properly released it as he had been trained to do. His mind raced ahead to worry about the contents now that the security measures were out of the way, whether it would be sufficient to see him through until he could find a way to earn subsistence money on his own. It should be plenty. They did without a lot of the extras he saw other kids indulging in, store-bought sweets and sports equipment and pets. They probably saved up all that money, and if they did, it would be here.

An unpleasant surprise greeted his scrabbling hands. His anxiety and fatigue blinded him to caution, and he tripped an inner security tag; his parents hadn't told him about this one. He should have known that there would be one kept secret from him as well – because he had been warned that the vault was off-limits. He cursed his stupidity even as the concussion threw him backwards along with an armload of formerly neatly-hanging shinobi uniforms.

His butt hurt where he landed on it, his hands were burned and he was blinded and deafened for the moment from the flash and the roar of the explosion, struggling to blink his eyes into obedience. Now he was in deep shit, even aside from the mess. The house wasn't secured properly. If the disturbance had been detected, others might enter. In a shinobi village, so soon after disaster, an energy release of this magnitude would probably bring the security patrols immediately. He lurched to his feet, groping painfully to try to make his way to the back door, to get tags to back up to fortify the door lock at least.

The latch alone wouldn't stop them; he had to get the tags back up now. He dizzily cursed himself for his carelessness.

He tripped, stunned, and then realized there were clothes tangling his legs from the closet. He kicked them away hard, but not fast enough. Flashes of light were starting to erupt in his failed vision. The door, he could imagine the latch being slipped and the intruders barging in. His hands were incredibly painful but he used them to find the walls and blunder down the hall way regardless.

His eyes cleared a little, and what he saw stopped his heart in his throat. He'd made it as far as the kitchen, but now he froze. The outside light against the opaque glass of the back door outlined the large shadow of a man. The door made a rattle and the knob twisted back and forth.

"Anybody in there?" the voice called, deep and completely unfamiliar.

Don't panic, Iruka scolded inwardly. He fingered his kunai, ignoring the sharp pain of his burns. He would be within his rights to defend himself in his own home.

"He's there, I'm picking him up not too far in. Umino Iruka! Open up!" A higher, younger voice, but still not one he recognized.

"Hold on. The shinobi that lived here were experts in tags and traps. This is one house I used to think twice about before entering, even when I was an invited guest." The third man raised his voice, but kept it even and friendly. This voice was quite familiar. "Iruka-kun, it's all right. It's Aburame Shibi. Open up, son. I need to see that you're all right."

Iruka cringed; so it was the bug spy and at least two others. It was an almost unbearable amount of attention. He had to get them to leave, and he had no doubt they could get in now. Aburame was a senior ninja, to throw a seal on the door now would be detected by all three and it would be an act of insubordination.

"I'm here," he called back. "I'm fine. You can go."

"Let me see you. Open the door, Iruka; we're not going until I see you."

"You heard him, he sounds fine. He's all right, let's go. I don't have time to be babysitting," the younger voice drawled, sounding annoyed.

"Go ahead and go, then. We don't need you for back-up. But I need to see him."

"Maah, help yourself, Aburame-san. I've got an overdue report to write." Iruka detected a flashy pulse of chakra as someone teleported away.

"Man, that kid is something else," the other voice said. It belonged to the tall shadow darkening his doorway, and it hadn't retreated an inch.

"Agreed." Shibi turned his attention back to Iruka. "Iruka, open up. Now. It's an order."

Iruka bit the inside of his lip and forced himself to unlatch the door. He tried to step out, to block them from entering, but he was gripped by the arm and propelled back firmly, and the two shinobi stepped inside boldly.

Shibi's eyes raked over Iruka and he slipped his hands to the thin wrists, turning them over to inspect his palms. "You're burned. What is it with your hands, Iruka? Are you hurting yourself on purpose?"

Brown eyes narrowed and a fiery blush shot his cheeks. "I made a mistake, okay?" he blurted angrily. "I don't know where all the tags are in the house yet."

He twisted involuntarily, but the jounin held fast. "I'm taking you to see a medic."

"I don't need to."

"You took a hard hit," one hand released his wrist and touched his forehead. It must be bruised or something, Iruka frowned.

"It's nothing. Hey, where are you going?" the other nin had moved past, heading to check out the detonation site. "You can't go back there!"

"Iruka, stop,"

"No, don't!" he was almost fighting, struggling in rising alarm. "That's my parent's room! Stay out!"

"He's got to see what happened, it's…"

"Get out! Don't touch anything!" His voice was nearly a scream now.

The other shinobi retreated out of the hall, not to obey Iruka, but to assist with subduing the boy if he became combative. "Concussion?"

"Definitely." He tried to let Iruka calm down, holding him in place and waiting. Both men fell silent, and the only sounds in the room were the heavy, frantic breathing and the occasion grunt as Iruka tried to pull away.

He seemed to slow a little, but when the red-headed nin tried to head back down the hall, he began to fight again.

"He just needs to check the damage and clear the room of tags, Iruka, that's all."

"No! Enough, please, just get out, you can't hold me like this." Tears threatened to embarrass his cheeks. His vision, marginal at best already, flickered and he went limp for a second, catching himself when his muscle control flicked back on.

Shibi picked him up easily. "I took your Dad to the hospital this way a few times. No shame in it, Iruka. Everyone needs help sometimes. Isetchi-san won't touch a thing he's not supposed to. Would it help if you watched him?"

The brown head nodded, losing fight in spite of himself. Things were getting dimmer, and his stomach clenched in a sudden wave of nausea. He knew this feeling from before, the nausea and repeated brief loss of consciousness after a mild concussion. Frustration, diluted with physical weakness, permeated his body.

He was limp by the time Shibi brought him into the bedroom, so he placed him down on the slatted wood bed frame to help Isetchi check the room.

"This was a pretty harsh tag for the location. Damn, my kid would kill himself if I did this. And there are three more as bad or worse. The one on the sword case is enough to bring down the whole house."

Disarming was one of the rusty-headed nin's specialties, and he set to work after retrieving a disarmer's uniform of plated armor from a scroll in his vest. "You should take him out of here in case I set something off. The ceiling has trip wires, he's just lucky he didn't set off something big enough to disturb those. He'd be living with his folks right now if he had."

Shibi wondered if it wasn't purposeful on some level, setting off that tag. A way for the boy's parents to take him with them. Iruka was a bit of a savant at tags and traps, it seemed unlikely that he would have missed it, or tripped it trying to disarm it, if he was aware of it.

"Did you notice the way he's kept the house up?" Shibi asked, preparing to lift Iruka back up off the bed slats.

"Yeah, and I noticed that all of the appliances are unplugged and pulled out, like he's moving or something."

Shibi paused. "I'll be right back."

He took a quick trip into the kitchen, flipping open all the doors and drawers. Utensils were all there, regimented and spotless. But not one crumb of food, staple, spice or drop of consumable liquid was to be found anywhere. The counter shone like glass, as did the white porcelain coatings on the major appliances, all unplugged and standing in wait.

Another quick look – the smaller bedroom was spotless and the futon mat rolled and tied next to the empty bedframe.

Where was the boy living? He couldn't be living like this.

Back into the master bedroom, Isetchi waited on his knees by the closet floor, hands on his thighs, not willing to risk setting anything off with the boy in the room.

"Sorry. Have a look around when you're done, tell me if you think there's any way he's been living in here recently." Shibi gathered up Iruka, carrying him to the back porch so the chakra disturbance wouldn't bother the traps inside. In a flash he transported him to the intake doors of the infirmary.

The intake had been slow for days, the majority of the overload now centered on the ongoing care of critically injured and permanently disabled patients. Medical personnel as well as patients had lost their lives the day of the attack, the ultimate punishment for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. It left them short-handed in the face of the crisis, so it was with great relief that Shibi found them willing to look at the boy right away.

The medic-nin worked methodically, almost detaching her mind from her body's automatic movements after so many repetitions of this act over so little time.

"A tag, you say? Just as I suspected. He does have a concussion, and it's a good one. Those burns are deliberate tag-burns; whoever set up that trap wanted to punish their target for a while. If he took the full brunt, and I'm thinking he did with the severity of the burns, this was the main purpose of the tag. Somebody's got a nasty sense of humor if this was a prank."

Or a nasty way to discipline their child, the bug jounin though darkly. Iruka had no doubt been told to stay out of his parent's closet. But this is how they enforced it? He had witnessed the Uminos delivering corporal punishment to the boy fairly often, in spite of their son's obedient nature the shinobi couple believed that hard blows made for strong defenses so they lit into him over every little thing. But a good strapping with a belt or bamboo cane is one thing; tag burns and concussions were quite another.

Well, it did no good to think ill of the dead. But it might explain some of Iruka's reluctance to be around people, and his lack of reassurance when he was brought into a family home. He'd never really relaxed at the Aburame house. Unfamiliar family settings would probably not translate into the idea of a safe haven for the boy at all.

"I have no rooms available to put him in here, but we can fit him on a gurney in the hallway, Aburame-sama. He needs an IV with fluids for the balance of the day and through the night, and he needs to be watched for twenty-four hours to make sure he doesn't slip into a coma. Very unlikely, but with a concussion like this it should still be done."

"I can take him. We'll watch him tonight. Does he need to come back?"

The medic-nin nodded in mild relief that she wouldn't have to subject the boy to the noisy, crowded halls. "Watch those hands as well; I'm concerned about the depth of the damage. Keep the salve on it thick, don't let it dry out at all. No water on it, either. Bring him back in the next day or two for a recheck. Don't hesitate to bring him back in if you notice any negative changes in his vital signs, or if you can't wake him up." With that he was released into Shibi's care.

o0o0o0o0o

Shino stared at the slow rise and fall of Iruka's chest. A little hand reached out, but his father stopped him gently, picking him up and holding him back out of reach

"Not dead." Shino pronounced in satisfaction, pointing to the moving chest.

"Just resting. He hurt his head, so we're going to watch him for a while here in case he needs help. You need to let him rest. If you're good, you can be the one to wake him up when we check on him."

"You said let him rest," puzzled the toddler.

"True, but he also needs to be awakened, just for a minute or so, every hour so we make sure he's just resting and not getting worse. I think you'd be good at waking him up, don't you?"

Shino wiggled in agreement, trying to think of a really good way to wake someone up. He probably shouldn't jump on his stomach, and that was his favorite way to wake up his dad.

Shino settled on blowing in Iruka's face. He blew and puffed and inadvertently spit until he was panting in the silent face. Nothing.

"He's sleeping pretty deeply, son. I think you need to try something else."

Shino nodded obediently and a small hand pinched Iruka's nose shut. "Hah!"

His dad smiled. Smart boy. Iruka was twitching and shaking his head, the movements to escape the uncomfortable pinching and unblock the airway bringing him further into consciousness.

The smile died when Iruka reared up with a start, wrapped hands swinging up hard. Shino jumped back, his excellent reflexes in perfect compliment to his father's, who caught him and whisked him out of harms way in mid-jump.

Iruka only managed to hit thin air and fall back out of balance, never really waking up completely.

"Bad!" scolded Shino, waggling a small finger accusingly.

Iruka drooped back down onto the bed, going back into darkness under the weight of his fatigue and the pain medication.

Shino looked at his dad. Was that it? Shouldn't they wake him up for a minute like he said?

"Let's let it go until next hour. He's fine for now. Now, don't you be trying to wake him up unless I'm right here with you. I'll come get you when it's time."

"I wanna stay in here."

"No, I want you to stay clear of him unless I'm in the room. When a shinobi's been injured everyone, even the medic-nin, have to be careful. Sometimes a ninja's defensive reactions that save him in the field can hurt his comrades if they aren't careful how they approach him."

"You too?" squeaked Shino.

"Yes, I'm afraid it happens to everyone at one time or another. But there's no excuse for it here. We have control over the situation. And that's why I want you to stay out of this room if you're alone. Okay?"

Shino nodded, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"Come on, caterpillar; let's get you down for your own nap."

When the next hour's awakening time arrived, Shibi let Shino sleep through it. Instead, he went to Iruka's side and gazed at the boy's face, contemplating. His forehead was bruised and his face was reddened, as if he'd been sunburned.

His parent's theories on raising a strong boy were sound. In application, though, it seemed that they should have taken their son's individual nature into account. Had they realized how young Iruka would be when they left him alone for good, perhaps they wouldn't have been so hard on him all the time. In a couple of more years, when Iruka's normal path of development would have him rebelling and asserting himself, the balance would have been struck like a perfect note.

But cut off here, still oppressed and a tad submissive under their strong micro-controlling influence, Iruka was poorly suited for self-management. He was suspicious of adult supervision and uncomfortable in family settings. He had loved his parents in spite of the upbringing. Faced with the structure of parental power without the family affection, he couldn't get away fast enough.

He wondered what Iruka thought, when he saw them cuddling Shino. The Aburames were not saps, but they believed very much in positive reinforcement and working with the natural flow of living things and not against them. Nurturing a harmonious relationship with the insects central to their family's special talents was key for the bug nins. It was the only way to successfully utilize the full power of their bloodline limit; to a degree, they raised their young with that theory as well.

Shino was adorable and willful and it was difficult to tell how his personality would develop yet. But here was Iruka, earnest, kind, diligent and – well – sort of chivalrous. He had an old-fashioned way about him, a natural sense of honor and dependability. If he would stay, Shibi couldn't image Iruka ever causing much trouble or making a fuss. Likely, he would be a great help and a valuable addition to the household.

But not against his will. Iruka also had a stubborn streak and a temper, neither crushed by punishment or the threat of it.

Shibi gently shook Iruka's shoulder.

"Iruka-kun," he called. "Wake up for me. Wake up and talk to me for just a minute, so I can make sure you're all right."

Iruka stirred, and began to toss a bit. He seemed feverish, but Shibi carefully felt his reddened cheek, and it was cool enough.

At the touch, Iruka made a quick intake of breath. "Dad." He breathed.

"No, Iruka," Shibi said quietly. "It's Aburame Shibi."

"Ahhh," Iruka moaned, in pain or sorrow, it wasn't clear which. "What happened?"

"You had a mishap, but you're fine. I need you to look at my hand and tell me how many fingers I'm holding up."

"Nooo, it hurts to open my eyes."

"Just do this quickly, Okay? Then you can go back to sleep for a while. I just need to make sure you're not getting worse."

Iruka squinted one eye open, then winced it back shut. "Three."

"Good boy. Okay, you've earned your rest. Go back to sleep."

"Where…"

"My home, Iruka-kun. Rest." He placed hand on the boy's forehead and sent him back to sleep.

He wondered how his partner was faring at disarming the Umino household.

xxxx

Mizuki walked the broken stretch of wall restlessly. He had to admit to himself, for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to something that was not mission-related. It was with far less interest that he observed the approach of one of the chunin charged with coordinating the watch on the compromised wall.

"Touji. Report."

"Nothin'. No movement. No one in or out."

"Good. There was a small disturbance in town. No indication it's a breach, but we're checking up on the perimeter as a precaution."

"Mm. What's up?"

"I understand it was some home security mishap. Just some kid. I didn't pay too much attention."

Mizuki frowned. He had an excellent sixth sense. The first thing that came into his mind was a vision of Iruka trying to get into his house.

"Whereabouts?"

"SoKon; section two or four, I think."

"So. Was everyone all right?"

"Minor injury I guess. Not much damage."

"Well, that's good."

"Hey, gotta run. I need to hurry up and do the whole perimeter or Bushan-sensei will have my hide." Weird. It was the first time he'd ever heard Mizuki say something like that. He always had the distinct impression that anytime there was a disaster, Mizuki liked hearing the death toll, and the higher the number the better.

Maybe the carnage of the demon attack made a positive change in the guy.

With a wave he darted on to parallel the wall, leaving Mizuki to stew in his conviction that the injured kid in question was probably his kid.

Mizuki felt the tiniest bit responsible, since he's pushed Iruka to go in and get his things.

He hopped up to observation height in a nearby tree to continue his watch and contemplate how this incident might somehow work in his favor.

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Isetchi Yoti leaned on the doorframe as he prepared to say goodbye, shaking his head. "It's never easy. Well, hang in there. It isn't your fault, you know. Just let the Adjudicator break it to him. He'll be getting the notice sometime in the next week."

Shibi grimaced. "Did they say what ward he'd be assigned to?"

"He's a little young for it, but they slotted him into the teen ward. He'll still be able to come and go as he pleases there."

"Tell me about it. Other than the high risk kids that I was keeping tabs on, no one's watching them at all. There's just no manpower. I go back on active mission status next week myself."

"Well, it'll be easier to look out for them once they're not all scattered in individual housing. I'm sure that's why they're doing this. And from what I saw he'll be a lot better off. I couldn't find any sign that he'd been living in the house. One of the neighbors told me that one time they saw him sleeping on the ground outside. That just makes no sense at all."

"Things are pretty confusing for him right now. He can definitely use some structure. And they'll have food for him, too, it doesn't seem that he's caring for himself all that well." Shibi sighed. "It's for the best, I guess. But I feel like I should warn him. He's the last of his line, I'm sure they must have heirlooms and such that would need to be stored."

"I don't know if you really want to warn him. But if you do, watch out for his reaction. They'll take him in alone and confine him before they give them the news at the center. There were a few incidents they don't want repeated. These kids are old enough that they need a few precautions in place before you tell them something this heavy. They have a tendency to get stupid when they hear this is not optional. If you tell him, you'd better restrain him first. He's still in rough shape, seems to me."

"He hasn't had nearly enough time to do any real adjusting. It just seems like a pathetic replacement for the home and family life he's lost. We have so little for them there, it's just subsistence."

"But, realistically, what more does he need? He'll have the basics. Food, shelter…safety, too, now that the threat is over. There's nothing to harm him here in the village. The hard truth is that we can't bring his parents back to life for him. He has to face that on his own no matter what. He's not an infant. There's not much more to be done for him; the rest is really up to him."

"Well, I do appreciate the heads-up. I should probably go look in on him. Yoti-kun, I'll see you tomorrow."

"You bet. Look, you've been a big help to these kids, you should feel good about that. And now that they have a safe place to stay, maybe you should try and let it go. You'll have to concentrate on your mission work again anyway. Hopefully we'll be going on one together pretty soon, huh? Just hanging round the village all the time gets old fast. Later, Shibi-kun."

The door shut, leaving the troublesome situation in the bug jounin's care.

Iruka's little mishap had brought his situation to the immediate attention of the administrators and they'd ruled on his status at once. They were claiming the house and furnishings under domain rights, and using an ages old wartime statute to take all of the assets of the dead unless specifically willed to adult beneficiaries in good standing. By the time the administration was through, Iruka would have nothing, and he would be remanded to the teen ward – basically just a room - in the small orphanage that was now growing past capacity.

Shibi stepped into the room and Iruka eyed him cautiously, sitting up in the bed waiting to be allowed to dress and leave. His nagging headache and sore hands kept him awake now and his twenty-four hour watch was over four hours ago, and still he hadn't been allowed to leave. He automatically looked down and past the man, looking for Shino, but the toddler was nowhere to be seen. He stiffened when the door closed and locked, leaving the two of them alone in a way they had not been before. Something was up. The hairs on the back of his neck agreed. When the older man approached, before he even opened his mouth, Iruka grew nervous waiting for the words.

Shibi had made up his mind that he would just give Iruka an option today. Something to fall back on if he chose to when the bad news came. He decided that his friend was right, it might be better to let the officials handle the difficulties of ordering Iruka into the ward. If he handled it badly, or if the information was not entirely correct, he wouldn't be doing the boy any favors by telling him now.

It was unrealistic to think that he would want to stay at the Aburame compound if he didn't have to at this point. But Shibi figured that he would make an open-ended offer anyway. He liked Iruka, always had, from the time he first lurched to his feet and stared drooling up at the poker party. At the time Shibi was younger, and generally unimpressed with little kids. But Iruka was so cute and comical, with his stern looks and tiny voice pointing out potential threats and breaches of conduct. All his dad's friends had developed a great fondness for him over the course of their visits.

Iruka's deadly seriousness about being a shinobi began before the little guy could express it properly in words.

With his injured body and pride, he was not inclined to express himself now, either. He did not make any explanation or excuse when the invitation to stay on indefinitely was presented; in his experience with dealing with adults, the less said the better. If he gave reasons they would be disputed; if he explained his feelings they would be dismissed. So he simply shook his head no and took his clothing quietly, his actions politely declining the offer while his only words thanked the elder Aburame for his kindness and asked that he be allowed to return home.

o0o0o0o0o

Mizuki had done a little asking around, and he'd caught sight of the red-haired disarming specialist working around the Umino property alone. He'd pieced together enough of the story that he wasn't offended or worried when Iruka didn't make their meeting. But he was fairly certain that Iruka would be back to see him at his spot _some_ day after that. It threw him that it had been a couple of days and still no sign of the little twit.

His hopes rose every time he approached the clearing by the stream, in spite of the fact he tried to convince himself he didn't care one way or the other if the kid ever came back. He checked after his shift, later in the evening, on the way to his post in the morning, and even during one of his lunch breaks. It blacked his mood to find the area deserted, and no indication that anyone had been there.

Today it was finally different. He sensed Iruka before he saw him, but it wouldn't have taken any great ninja skills to find him. He was sitting by the water, rocking back and forth inconsolably. A pillowcase sat next to him on the ground, and he was hardly silent, choking on the effort to cry quietly.

It was a welcome sight. Mizuki knew this was coming. Not only had he predicted it, now word of the roundup of the scattering of loose kids was the latest hot topic. Konoha's shame, the councilman had called it in the speech broadcast from the administrator's forum, leaving the orphaned shinobi youth to fend for themselves on the street, as if there were hundreds of starving waifs hiding in dumpsters around the city. In truth, it was a relatively small number that had been left with no relatives nor directives for their care and disposition. Adding kids to the current undersized facility would still result in overcrowding – but these kids were special indeed. They had been left behind by shinobi parents, who were more likely than most to have savings and property let behind unattended as well. It seemed abundantly clear to Mizuki that he had decoded the village's hidden agenda. This followed his theories flawlessly.

"Hey, kid, better dry it up in case somebody comes along and sees you." Mizuki folded down onto his knees, putting a hand on the shaking shoulder. Iruka gaped, startled. "Just kidding, man, don't have a heart attack. You're so easy. Like anyone's going to see you here. What's up?"

"You were right. They're taking everything. They set me up. They sent me for a re-check at the infirmary and while I was there they pinned me down and told me I had to move. They even went in my house and took my clothes to the orphan's ward right then while I was gone. They're keeping everything else. Everything. I barely got back in and made it away with these things while they were sealing the house." His red-rimmed eyes, full of humiliation and bitterness, cast up at the larger boy.

Mizuki peered into the pillowcase. Some framed photos were on top. He nodded. "You want me to put these someplace for you?"

Iruka nodded, fresh tears spilling in spite of his effort to hold them back. He looked down, embarrassed to be so weak and exposed. "I don't have anywhere to keep anything. I hear that anything you take with you to the orphanage just makes you a target for the older guys. No one keeps anything there but their clothes and their kunai."

"Man, don't let 'em see you blubbering like that. They'll take you out back and make you their bitch," grinned Mizuki. He rubbed Iruka's shoulder as it stiffened in alarm from his words, relishing the contact.

"I'm trying not to."

"Thought you were going to be a big, bad shinobi. I think being able to stop crying is pretty much a prerequisite for that." His hand was sliding up and down Iruka's back, exploring the youthful body, taking in the way it was taut without being very muscular yet. Firm yet soft. He reached around and squeezed the smaller waist, pulling them together side-by-side. Iruka was so distraught he leaned into the uninvited attentions, taking comfort that Mizuki was still willing to sit here with him while he was in such a disgraceful state.

Iruka had covered his face, his tears, and his shame with both hands, trying fruitlessly to get a grip on himself before his self-pity chased his new and desperately needed friend away. The large hands that took his and pulled them down were firm and moved without regard to his half-hearted resistance. Mizuki took his chin and pulled gently, then harder. He didn't want to look up yet, he wasn't presentable this way.

"Face me." Another pull and Iruka submitted to his will, owing him for not leaving.

His eyes were closed, but the rest of that face was wide open, a mask of pain and tragedy. A thrill ran through the older boy's chest, the excitement filled him until he thought he might burst. They'd done an excellent job, Iruka was stripped of everything and torn wide open, his worldly ties and possessions lost, taking with them his self-esteem and self-confidence. He was practically fetal at this point. He was beautiful and unresisting and momentarily shattered to the point of total submissiveness. He was _perfect _beyond Mizuki's wildest dreams.

Touching him made his hands hungry for more. He used his hands to wipe away tears, feeling the slightly raw path they'd made on the tender young face.

"Don't be so rude. Open your eyes."

Iruka's wet lashes fluttered open reluctantly, and the glistening brown eyes projected with crystal clarity every pain the younger boy felt. Mizuki's heart seemed to stop beating. He was seeing everything, looking straight into unprotected soul. Nothing stood between them, and it was a high far beyond soldier pills, executions, orgasm, or drunkenness, thrilling to the point of near madness. The older boy locked in to the moment, hands tightening their grip on that trembling chin. The urge rose up to do something to make this permanent, something irrevocable. If he could kill them both right now, together, without moving he would; this was a moment he could exist in for eternity.

This was his other half, a part of him running free instead of being tucked inside where it belonged. How it had escaped in the first place, he had no idea. That didn't matter now. He'd found it, and he wasn't going to let it get away again. It belonged to him on a cosmic level and now it was going to belong to him on a physical plane. If this half died it might rejoin him in spirit but of that there was no guarantee. When it began to move his mind reignited. With the goal set, there was naught to do but act accordingly.

"P-please, I know you're trying to help, but let me go."

That would never happen. He let his hands relax, trying to fondle the red fingerprints marking the beckoning flesh.

But Iruka turned away quickly as soon as that painful grip released. His tears had stopped, a touch of self-preservation distracting him from his sorrow.

Mizuki gave him a sly smile. "Sorry if that was rough, but it did help you to get control of yourself. Better now?" He held his breath when the eyes met his again. He was swimming in them, absorbing their messages. Iruka admired him. Felt gratitude towards him. Was already beginning to need him. Was slightly afraid of losing him already. The sly smile widened into a grin.

"Yeah, thanks." Iruka's voice was rough and unsteady, still tight with the effort of restraining himself. The urge to cry would pass now if he held on long enough and hard enough. He was getting better at it. He hiccupped unexpectedly, and it made his empty stomach growl and ache even more.

"You haven't been eating bait again, have you?" Mizuki laughed.

Iruka bit the inside of his lip. _I must be doing a good job of hiding my feelings,_ he thought. Mizuki was treating him like he was perfectly fine now. It eased his embarrassment and the pressure of trying to get a grip on his emotions.

"No."

"If you wait here I'll go get you some food from home. You'll have to stay here; my old man is there, I don't want him asking if I beat you up or something."

"You…you don't have to!"

Iruka's reaction made Mizuki beam proudly. He was obviously devastated to hear Mizuki was leaving him alone, even for a little while. Looking closely, he could even see the battle against the tears begin to renew. All because they would be apart for just a few minutes! The smaller hand was clutching the pillowcase like a security blanket.

It was just too tempting to take that last shred of security as his hostage.

"Give me that and I'll stow it for you at home for now. That way it'll be safe."

Iruka nodded automatically; it was what he had come here to ask for, after all. But his hands began to shake perceptibly and he was embarrassed again. His instincts warned him sharply against letting this relative stranger take the last of his earthly possessions.

But what other choice was there? Mizuki had already taken his silence for agreement; he could see the blue-gray eyes watching his expression as the cloth bag was taken from his side. He sat as stoically as he could, biting the inside of his lip again and sucking on the blood. _Be calm_, he told himself, and nodded again at the older boy's questioning look. He resisted the urge to flinch when the platinum blond gave his shoulder a rough, reassuring squeeze.

The mixed feelings at hearing the disappearing footsteps were the final straw, exhausting the last of his ability to cope and think. Iruka went up the nearest pine tree and hid in the tallest section that still had sufficient foliage to support and conceal him. His head was beginning to ache, like it always did after he had a hard cry, and the intensity was aggravated by his recent concussion. Securing himself with a 'nap strap', he made the handsigns sadly, reminded as always of the pride on his mother's face when he'd mastered this chunin-level concealment jutsu when he was only nine.

It took chakra to establish and maintain, and it almost took more energy than he had left. He let consciousness go, cruel master that it was, and sank into oblivion.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Mizuki returned to find Iruka gone from his place by the water. He calmly went to the spot and concentrated his chakra to pick up the trail. There was no sense of urgency or uncertainty. Iruka was a person with nowhere to hide.

He followed the traces, secure in the fact that a pre-genin wouldn't have the capability of covering his chakra traces even if he'd thought of it. It wasn't a slight on Iruka's abilities, however. Iruka left a clear chakra trail. To have that much after such a long period of stress and poor maintenance was pretty good for a kid his age.

He hiked the small pack over his shoulder to tromp up the side of the tree. Now he was beginning to frown, black thoughts clouding his former euphoria. Was Iruka hiding from him? Did he think that was going to be allowed?

He lost the traces near the treetop. Sending out a sweeping search, it didn't reappear in his perceptual range. Short of flying, Iruka couldn't have gone anywhere else. He examined the tree for jutsu, false branches or light bending. The bare edge of the concealment finally came into view, and only because he was right on top of it.

"Kai!" he barked, glaring as the image reassembled into reality. His hand was right by the silent head. A rough shake got no reaction. He unhooked the strap securing the limp figure to the tree and hauled him by the neck of his vest into the air, considering the possibilities.

He allowed Iruka the benefit of the doubt. He likely came up here because he was too tired and needed to sleep. It was merely a wise, cautious practice to secure and protect himself before catching some z's.

As he worked them both back down to the ground, Mizuki's mind began to play with the situation. Pausing on the last tier of thick cover, he pulled the unconscious face to his and stuck his tongue in the open mouth, looking around covertly as he invaded to make sure he couldn't be seen.

It was riveting. The taste, the total control, the stealth. Even the face he was plunging his tongue into had no way of knowing what he was doing. The erotic impulses electrified his entire body, his feet were so hot in his boots it was almost unbearable. This was as controlled and private as masturbation but as pornographic as a brothel full of willing ass. All pleasure. No responsibility or self-respect required. It was already more exciting than he had imagined, and this was just from using the boy from the neck up.

He almost couldn't stop himself in time. Iruka was waking up. The beads of sweat forming on his forehead threatened to drip into the open mouth he had just vacated.

He gave the pallid face a slap to cover up his awkwardness.

"Hey, wake up! Wake up, you're having a nightmare!" It was hard to suppress the giddy feeling; he was still stimulated and it was playing hell with his ability to act like nothing had changed.

Iruka's hand went to his eyes, rubbing clumsily. He blinked up blearily as Mizuki touched the handprint from the slap.

"Are you all right, Iruka?" he asked.

When Iruka opened his mouth slightly in a hitching, half-suppressed yawn, Mizuki had to turn away.

"How did I get here, Mizuki-san?" Iruka groaned. His hands rubbed fiercely.

"I don't know, I found you here. You were having a nightmare, maybe you were sleepwalking?" He dropped to the forest floor and gently set Iruka down.

"I'm sorry, I never had that happen before. I was up high resting."

"Don't strain your brain. Here, check this out." He slipped the pack off his shoulder and handed it to the slumped boy. It took a few beats before the tanned hands moved to take the pack. Mizuki dropped down to his knees and took it back impatiently, dumping out the contents.

"Come on, eat something, you're a mess." Mizuki picked up a bag of trail mix and ripped it open, shoving it into Iruka's hands. "I got you stuff that wouldn't go bad. Granola, nuts, crackers…the old man buys this shit in bulk and gets it delivered. He hates grocery shopping. There's so much of it nobody's gonna notice if I share it with you."

Iruka took some and began to eat, chewing dazedly. He was barely getting anything down. Mizuki watched, phasing out of the moment, his mind focusing as intently as his eyes on the motions of those lips chewing and opening to take in more food. The idea formed that if he chewed the food himself and passed it into Iruka's mouth, he could get more in him. He would chew big mouthfuls of food, and seal his lips over Irukas, and press the food out with his tongue in several movements. His hands would be on that lithe throat, feeling for the swallow to better time the thrusts of masticated nourishment. That position would make the smaller boy completely vulnerable, and the activity would hide the pleasure so that he could enjoy it without the other ever knowing. It would be inevitable that he would be moving in some way, touching, tasting each other as well…

"What…is there something on my face?" Iruka asked, wiping at his mouth with this hand.

It broke the daydream, jarring the older boy back into reality.

It was insane to be here in the middle of nowhere with no witnesses and still have to control his behavior. Well, not _no_ witnesses. Isn't a victim a witness?

Technically, yes…but only if he survives.

He smiled and shook his head in the negative, reassuring Iruka that there was nothing on his face that didn't belong there.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi and a million thanks to my patient and forgiving readers. And it's been great to hear from you reviewers!  
__Well, it's not exactly in the spirit of the season. but nevertheless here is:_

**Chapter 7**

Their meeting in the clearing was becoming a regular thing, regular in that it happened often, although not with any kind of a pattern. Mizuki was taking missions, and the time had come for the school to reopen and for Iruka to return to classes.

Mizuki was disgruntled when he heard that Iruka's class was to be accelerated. With the exception of individuals who had disciplinary actions or flat failed completely, all of them were going to receive a sort of boot camp-style compressed training and be elevated to genin within six to eight months. The next boost would be at twenty-four months: an unheard-of automatic ascension to chunin. The journeyman-level ranks had been decimated, parents had pulled children off of shinobi track, and the resulting smaller pool of up and coming pre-genin would barely be enough to sustain manpower even if everyone advanced. Some slightly marginal genin had been promoted to chunin, some chunin were advanced to jounin early, and the vacancies rolled downhill. So many shinobi died or were permanently disabled fighting the fox demon it was feared that Konoha could fall from its position as the strongest power.

Mizuki hadn't been chunin long enough to get that shortcut quite yet. When he first heard about the promotions, he'd preened at the idea of making jounin so quickly. But as usual, timing that paid off so handsomely for others fell flat when it came to him. When they listed the new jounin on the board he watched in bitter silence as so many others whooped and pounded one another's backs. He blamed his teammates for it, they were soft and slow in the field it and they'd drug him down with them. Sometimes he just wanted to kunai them both to a tree and do the mission by himself. His chakra was twice what either of theirs was, and he had no problem exerting plenty of force to get the job done. He concentrated on perfecting the most devastating jutsus, never leaving a survivor if the choice was his.

Sometime he wished he had the choice to just eliminate his teammates altogether. Looking at the list with his name nakedly absent, it became one of his fondest wishes.

So it was that his mood was black, his heart blacker, and his self-restraint stretched to the breaking point when Iruka bounced into the clearing to share his good news.

"Mizuki, guess what?" Iruka smiled, running up to his friend sitting on the riverbank. He slid to a halt sitting next to him, enthusiastically grabbing his arm. "I'm on the six-month track! Six months and I go full genin! Even with all the time I missed between the stuff that happened and the school being closed, I'm promoting for sure!"

His cute face never looked better since Mizuki met him. He looked much healthier, happier, alive.

Mizuki smiled, but his eyes stayed narrow and fierce. "You think that's for your benefit? You think they're doing that to recognize you?"

"Uh…well," Iruka was thrown off by the unexpected reaction. "I don't know. I mean, it's a promotion; it's what I'm working up to. So I get it early, that's great, right?"

"Right. You go into the field before you're really on that level; and then I get to come do a crayon rubbing of your name on the memorial stone for my bedroom wall. Sweet," Mizuki sneered.

"Who says I won't be on that level? I'm capable. I'm gonna be a chunin before you know it, then a jounin, maybe, who knows, a sannin! It was decided a long time ago."

"You're stupid then. Come on, you're so ready, so sharp. Come spar with me. I'll try not to hurt you, but let me come at you like a real enemy comes at you. Then you'll see what I'm talking about."

Iruka frowned, but he was determined to make Mizuki see that this was something to celebrate.

"Okay, sheesh, I spar all the time. I don't know what your point is. You could beat me easy, you're way more advanced than I am, so why do you have to prove it?"

"Less talking more walking, hurry up. You'll see." He took Iruka's hand; they sometimes held hands when they walked, but this was different. It reminded Iruka uncomfortably of the usual reason his mother took his hand, to pull him along for discipline when she wanted to make sure he didn't have an opportunity to bolt.

It really, really felt just like it. They closer they got to the training field the more the back of his neck prickled with sweat.

"Mizuki?" Iruka asked quietly, his wrist beginning to protest from being jerked roughly. "Are you angry with me?"

The older boy stopped short and spun him in his tracks. "This isn't a game. You can die in the field. And worse. People do every day. Hell, being skilled isn't even a guarantee. Look at your parents, hn? People may think they were hacks, getting blown away so easily, but they might have been first-class shinobi and it wouldn't have mattered."

Iruka shook his head and quickly looked away from the flashing, pale eyes. Did Mizuki just insult his parents in their graves? His face heated in anger.

"They were first-class shinobi, and nobody thinks otherwise!" His brown eyes sparked with fire, and he wrenched his arm free.

The smile that spread across Mizuki's face was as angry as the scowl it replaced. "Quit fucking around. Fight me, little boy. Little genin-in-waiting, little hot shot. Look at you, one little insult and you're out of control already. Think the enemy will have nice things to say about you and your heritage while you're trying to kill each other? Don't they teach anything vaguely related to reality in that nursery school you call an academy?"

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being this way?" Iruka fought back tears of betrayal.

"Because I care about you, of course," the angry tone belied. He shoved Iruka forward, and once one small foot crossed the boundary of the sparring grounds, the platinum-haired shinobi attacked.

Iruka rolled, unprepared for the fight to start, coming up on his feet in a crouch grabbing for a kunai. A boot was already connecting with his shinbone with a sickening crack. His suddenly deformed leg no longer supported his weight, and it should have ended the match immediately.

Mizuki was not in the mindset for mercy. He was well aware of the celebration the newly promoted shinobi were having with their new peers. The one he wasn't invited to. The one that meant the sparring field was theirs alone for the rest of the day. He stood over Iruka, watching him roll on the ground grimacing, clutching his leg.

"You're ready to die properly now. Disabled and captured. Then comes torture. Rape. Maybe amputation. Then death."

He took his much larger hand and clamped it on Iruka's groin, a move that claimed his attention in spite of the pain. It was getting better now, the hurt and disappointment and anger melting into interest in exploiting this suddenly provocative situation. Iruka writhing on the ground was breathtaking, a distraction worthy of letting go of his original plan to beat him to a pulp to teach him a lesson about the joys of shinobi life.

His hand gripped hard, and the pain from that grip began to rival the pain from the shattered shinbone.

A very un-Iruka-like string of curses filled the air.

"You think this is that bad touch we're all supposed to pretend doesn't happen? Your enemy has no such rule. He'll do to your body whatever it takes to get his job done. This is nothing." He leaned down to whisper in Iruka's ear, undeterred by the crippled flailing that tried to push him free from his assault. "Nothing."

"Break it up!" Rat sprinted across the field, ANBU speed bringing him in contact with Mizuki before he could break off voluntarily.

"Okay, okay! We were just..."

The armored nin shoved him back without comment to kneel by the injured boy.

Iruka saw the glazed rodent mask through eyes squinting with pain. A calming hand held his shoulder for a moment before releasing him.

"Why didn't you stop and take him to the infirmary after the leg injury?" The voice was neutral behind the mask.

Mizuki shook his head, searching for the right words…this was a breach of conduct considering Iruka was so young and a much lower level nin. Inspiration hit. "I thought he was faking, I barely made the hit. I thought it was a trick to get me to drop my guard. I was trying to call his bluff."

The ANBU nodded slowly. "Well, he's not faking – that's a compound fracture."

"I'll take him right now. Iruka, hang on. We're going to take you to the hospital."

"We? You hurt him, you take him. Got it?" Rat said, almost bored in his tone of superiority. He had far better things to do than supervise stupid kids.

"Of course, ANBU-san. Grab my neck, Ru."

Iruka grabbed that neck reluctantly, allowing his body to be lifted and carried. "Thank you, ANBU-san," he said, his voice shaking in pain.

He gave Mizuki the silent treatment all the way to the hospital. The older boy signed him in, and the intake clerk's comment went unnoticed in his sullen mood.

"Back so soon?"

Mizuki frowned, but Iruka didn't seem to have heard. "Training again," he mumbled quietly. The clerk scribbled and Mizuki was relieved of his charge by a humorless orderly. He nodded to Iruka and left him to face the healing alone. The surprised, almost panicked face Iruka made when he realized the older boy wasn't going to stay with him was deeply satisfying.

_That should teach him to act up when someone was just trying to educate him_, Mizuki thought smugly.

o0o0o0o0o

Iruka had been moving along steadily, but now he was slowly losing his resolve. By the time he was in sight of his destination, he stopped and supported himself with a hand against the compound's wall. The healers had done a good job, the pain was bearable, and he could limp along without a crutch or cane the very next day. He was supposed to stay off of it, take a day to rest. But he couldn't relax at the teen ward; if he tried to rest there, he'd just be asking to be harassed.

He couldn't go to his usual sanctuary, either…he just wasn't sure about Mizuki right now. Everything he'd said sort of made sense, but the treatment he'd received from the older boy spoke louder than his words. It felt like he'd been punished, not trained, and he had no idea what he'd done to deserve it. Since Mizuki left after dropping him off and still hadn't been back, there had been no way to clear up what had happened. His intuition told him that even though he couldn't remember doing anything wrong, it had been anger that motivated his friend. If that were true, he'd still be upset, and something else bad could happen.  
The only other place that came to mind was the Aburame's place. He wasn't sure about this either – he knew the man had something to do with his being sent to the orphanage. Sure, he'd offered to let Iruka stay here with them, but his motives weren't clear. Putting bugs on him, spying on him and trespassing, forcing him out of his house…he had many reasons to distrust the man. And it might have been his imagination, but it seemed like there was some sinister reason for those dark glasses. It would have helped to be able to see his eyes, to get a better feel of his intent. Iruka gnawed on a fingernail and waffled.

When he had trouble at his home and Aburame-san found out, it had been elevated to the higher authorities, and it had resulted in Iruka getting attention that was very much not in his best interest as far as he was concerned. If he went and asked to rest here now, there would be questions. If he gave truthful answers, there might be more trouble.

But it was the memory of being so safe when he'd hurt his head and they had taken care of him that tugged at him to go in. They had been so careful of him, like he was some little baby. He was certain that they would help him again. But the price had been too high last time.

What if they took some sort of action against Mizuki, or if they decided that Iruka had engaged in some sort of irregular training that wasn't allowed? The infirmary was far too busy to send up issues from injuries except for the most heinous of crimes. So, if they were going to get into trouble for what happened, the reason for it would likely be this visit.

The light in his liquid brown eyes shimmered. He would have liked staying in that spare room, in the safe, soft bed, listening to Shino babble and play and sometimes come up close and be so friendly and curious. The parents didn't discipline him like they should, but he didn't seem to be suffering for it. At least, not yet. It was a cruel mistake to be so lovey-dovey to a little kid like that. When his parents died in battle that boy would suffer too much. That was the curse of the open-hearted. As much as Iruka's parents had tried to strengthen him, it was his soft heart that failed him still. If he had been reared as this boy had, he could only guess at how unbearable his life would be right now.

He rested his head back against the wall. He had to face facts. He couldn't go in there after all. And he needed to find a place to lay low, away from the bullies and anyone who might question his truancy and follow up on the incident.

Mizuki was starting to look like the lesser of all these evils; he would have to go to their spot to rest after all.

Speak of the devil…

"Hey. Umino. All better?" The taller boy scanned the area casually as he sauntered up, satisfied that no one was around.

Iruka blinked at Mizuki warily. "How did you know?"

"That you were released? I went by the infirmary and you were gone." _And how did I know you'd be here? Since the bugman offered to let you stay and this is where you recovered before, it was elementary deduction._

Iruka fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Mizuki was uncomfortable as well, for different reasons. He wanted Iruka away from here. The last thing they needed was supervision, and if the Aburame found out what happened, he could complicate things. And if he did end up resting here again, Iruka might start to feel at home; after all, it was certainly better than the teen ward. If Iruka lived here, it would make it very difficult to get him out for the night without arousing suspicion. He might even refuse to come out and prefer to stay home. That was beyond unacceptable.

"Are they expecting you?" Mizuki asked mildly.

Iruka shook his head, looking down.

That answer was the best one the older boy could have hoped for.

"Hey, you don't want to be hanging around here too much. Especially after we got chewed out by that ANBU. This guy'll make a negative report to the academy. You wanted to advance, didn't you? This could screw that up for you. I'm surprised he hasn't gotten you expelled already, what with the problem at your house. If he forgot to report that, you sure don't want to be reminding him. You should make sure he doesn't see your face until after you promote."

Iruka slumped against the wall and nodded. The injury was starting to hurt more and disobeying the order to rest had not been a good idea. It wasn't for lack of trying to find a safe place to comply.

"Kid, you're still messed up. Here." Mizuki held out a hand. "Come on, don't be proud. You'll just make it worse. Aren't you supposed to be taking it easy?" He punctuated that offered hand with a smile.

I shiver of relief went through Iruka's thin frame when he saw that smile. The comfort of knowing that he had their shared sanctuary to escape to had been returned. He took the hand and let Mizuki put an arm around his waist to help support his weight. Before he could protest, he was being pulled along a little too fast for comfort away from the compound in the direction of their spot in the woods.

This close call impressed upon Mizuki that, while he had most of the variables in Iruka's situation covered, he would have to be diligent in keeping watch for potential threats. Iruka was adorable, smart, funny, obedient and caring. Those traits were quite evident. It would no doubt tempt others in all sorts of ways, ways that might interfere with their relationship. He would have to be careful to keep Iruka convinced that Mizuki could provide him with everything that he needed, and that no other could be trusted. It helped tremendously that Iruka's disrupted existence made it harder for him to cope with people, and that his classmates had responded to his plight as a homeless orphan by avoiding or harassing him, making him an outcast.

"Iruka-kun," Mizuki's deeper voice rumbled into Iruka's neck, making him shiver and laugh nervously. "I just hate it that you got hurt. You do forgive me, don't you? I'm just way too good at training. My teammates just expect that it will mean a trip to the infirmary when we train."

The ponytail bobbed as he nodded. It felt so much better to have the situation resolved. When they reached their spot, Mizuki was so gentle and kind. He even insisted on watching over him while he slept, and gave him the pills from the hospital that made the world fade away and brought the painless sanctuary of sleep.

The look of great happiness that the platinum-haired shinobi wore as he watched closely over Iruka, waiting for the pills to take effect, was comforting indeed. Iruka counted his blessings once more for having such a good friend to take all this time to help him when he just couldn't seem to keep his guard up again.

o0o0o0o0o

He knew that he didn't do as he had been told. Too much standing around and walking. The next morning, he felt sore all over, and still groggy from the painkillers. Mizuki must have been worried, because he had obviously spent the night there, too. It gave Iruka a little pang of guilt. After he had been thinking such suspicious things, Mizuki had shown such selflessness.

"Hey," Mizuki said softly, rolling on his side and resting gentle fingertips on Iruka's cheek. They'd slept with bedrolls zipped together; the older boy must have brought them from home but Iruka couldn't recall it at all. The chill morning air leaked in a bit from the movement. It made getting up seem even less appealing. "I'd love to stay here all day, but I have duty. You might want to stay here, though. I don't think you're ready to go back to school quite yet."

Iruka groaned softly. "They only gave me one day's excuse."

"I'll go by the academy and tell the office. You stay and recover just a bit more." He playfully poked the end of the scarred nose and smiled.

"But…" Iruka shifted guiltily.

"Ru. It's my fault you're hurt. Let me make it right?" Mizuki's smile was kind, and his voice was hushed, making the moment feel intimate and sweet.

The feeling of being cared for tickled perilously in the younger boy's stomach. Mizuki's pale eyes were looking deeply into his. So much attention, and he was so starved for it. He wasn't sure why he had any hesitation at the prospect of accepting this relationship. They weren't equals by any means; but still, the more advanced shinobi was willing to make him his partner. He knew of several tight teams of two or three nin among the mature shinobis, clockwork performers in the field and inseparable companions at leisure. Some even shared apartments. To make a connection like this so young was considered a blessing. There were a few teams that had formed up already among Iruka's contemporaries, like Izumo and Kotetsu, so why not him and Mizuki? The other kids in his class didn't seem to have much use for him. He was so lucky that fate had brought them together. It seemed like it was time to stop questioning it.

When Mizuki took his hand, warm under the cover, he allowed it. He timidly squeezed it to return the sentiment.

The effect was immediate. Mizuki's unbridled delight was almost too much. He pulled Iruka to him in an embrace, ignoring the startled resistance.

"I'm sorry, I do have to go. I sure don't want to." With that, he placed a kiss on Iruka's forehead and reluctantly crawled out from the slice of heaven he'd carved for himself.

Iruka was looking up at him, wide-eyed from the display of affection.

"We fit together well, Iruka-kun," Mizuki smiled, straightening his undershirt and shaking out his folded clothes. He was well-muscled already, impressive in the sleeveless tank, his body much more mature in comparison. The brisk morning air didn't seem to bother him at all. "We make a good team. It's like we've always been like this."

Silence greeted that comment. Iruka was so lost in his reactions he had nothing to say. It wasn't that he didn't agree; but it seemed that way to the older boy.

"You don't have a lot of options. Trying to make it on your own with no partner, when you have no clan or anybody, that's stupid. It goes against all the teachings, too, you know. We're comrades. It's our duty to team up if it maximizes our potential. Is that a problem?"

"N-no. No, I'm glad we can be a team."

"Good!" Mizuki, dressed out and ready to go, squatted down and traced a finger down Iruka's neck, following the bare skin until his now-cold hand found its way into the very warm region under the covers. He took the hand that came up in reflex and gave it a squeeze before letting it go and standing to leave. "Rest today, Ru-kun. See you when I'm off-duty."

Iruka was left to wrestle with his next move. It seemed that the sleeping bag began to fill with ghosts.

His parents, of course, would be disapproving and severe that he had hesitated to get up for even a moment. He was due back at class. He was not dead, dying nor confined in the hospital. Therefore, he needed to go to school.

His Mikoko-baachan would tell him to rest and take good care of his body, because it was a valuable tool of great worth to the community, and the precious residence of his heart and soul, for which there was no replacement.

His classmates would harass him today for showing up injured. Or they would harass him tomorrow because he didn't show up today. No difference there.

His teacher, given the message that he was out ill, never seemed to care one way or the other, either.

Aburame-san would have encouraged him to rest, but left it up to him.

And Mizuki really wanted him to stay put; they had just patched things up after their misunderstanding. He didn't want to cause another one.

Iruka made a conscious decision to do something against his parents' wishes; and for the first time in his life, it was because there was someone else he chose to please instead of them.

He decided that it was more important to cooperate with Mizuki, his new partner, than to follow the projected expectations of his parents. As he nestled back down into the warmth of the bag and winced at the ache in his tailbone and leg, he tried to convince himself that this decision was a sign of maturity. He wasn't his parents' little boy anymore, anyway. They had left him alone, with no guardian, with no provisions for his care. They must have thought him mature enough to be on his own; so he was free to do as he saw fit, and to make new alliances to replace his family ties. Surely they had no idea that he would end up like this; their guidance never covered such a situation. But he was resourceful and adaptive, and he was adapting to this as best he could.

The soft lining had a slight unique scent of its owner, and Iruka was comforted that he recognized this scent easily now. They were building experiences together, getting more familiar, learning about each other. It was all new and a great feeling, even with the odd moments and moods. Mizuki's brave statements about liking Iruka made it so much easier to believe in him and trust him; after all, he was trusting Iruka not to make fun of him for being so open and honest.

He began to fall back asleep, vaguely puzzled at being so tired after half a day plus a full night of sleep but deciding that the recovery must have been stealing away his energy. Once again, his friend knew best - Mizuki was vindicated in his opinion that more time was needed to heal.

o0o0o0o0o

After that incident, things improved between them. Mizuki was comfortable with things as they stood now. So long as Iruka was in that six-month period, accelerated or not, he was still pre-genin and far lower-ranked. His lower rank seemed to show in his clumsy, coltish accidents that kept landing him in the walk-in, the emergency room, the doctor's office, or under his friend's adequate combat first aid.

Mizuki never judged him, even as his classmates cruelly chided him for the bandages, the absences, even the occasional dizzy spell or loss of consciousness at school. He was sympathetic, helpful, and never shy about changing bandages or helping with adapting clothes around casts or slings. He was the best friend Iruka could ever have imagined.

They met at the riverbank again, Mizuki grinning in delight at the sight of Iruka in only his shirt and underpants, sucking the thumb he'd just pierced with the sewing needle. Iruka grinned right back, so wide his eyes closed in happy crescents.

"They make fun of me, but I can't help it. I don't have a mom to mend my pants all perfect, but I do a pretty good job. I'm so lucky I have you for a friend. Why doesn't it bother you to be seen with me?"

"They're idiots. They don't see you, Iruka. You're different, sure, but in a good way." He stood back a moment, taking in the sight of the long, tan legs, noting how they were starting to take on some definition.

"What way?"

"It's hard to explain. It's just you. You're important to me. Just take my word for it, kiddo, you have a very positive effect on my life, and I can't imagine anyone else ever taking your place." Mizuki stepped close and tapped the end of Iruka's nose playfully. "So, what'd you do to get them to stop?"

"Mooned the teacher. I have afternoon detention and I have to pick up trash at lunchtime for a week, but it was worth it. Nobody's worried about what my pants look like anymore, they're just wondering when they'll drop again!"

"See, how can anyone resist you? Clever and entertaining!"

Iruka's answering grin and enthusiastic hug squeezed a laugh out of the larger boy.

"Settle down!" Mizuki said, smacking Iruka playfully on the top of the head. "Don't make me hurt you."

Iruka squeaked in pretend upset at the thump on the head. "Big threat! You'd never hurt me on purpose."

"Of course not, not really." Mizuki reached into his backpack, pulling out a bottle. "Look here, I brought something different."

"Hey, where'd you get that? We're not old enough to drink."

"Yeah, right. If I'm old enough to cut somebody's head off to make money for the old man, I'm old enough to drink. You're old enough to make your own decisions. Not old enough, that's crap. Here, try it."

Iruka pushed the bottle back. "No, I don't think I'd better. What if the sensei found out? I mean, what would he think?"

"He'd think you drank something, big deal. They don't care, have a clue. Come on, don't be a lightweight. Take a shot."

"But I thought you were going to practice tracking me again. That was fun yesterday!" He looked cross-eyed at the dark printing. The label said bourbon, that wasn't even a drink he'd heard of. Sake, everybody drank sake, and it wasn't all brown and heavy like this. Iruka sniffed and turned his head away quickly, his face scrunched up from the smell. "Yuck!"

Mizuki's eyes flashed in anger.

"I'm sorry!" Iruka said. "I just didn't expect that smell!" He held his breath and took a burning swallow, choking on the unexpected impact of the alcohol in his throat.

Mizuki took the bottle from him and took a showy swig, in actuality only letting the barest dribble in his mouth.

"Takes practice," he said smugly. Iruka was still choking, eyes watering. Mixers, Mizuki thought with irritation. Next time, cut it with a mixer. He rubbed the heaving shoulder a little too firmly.

"Let's just spend the night out here, what do you say?"

Iruka nodded, not quite able to speak yet. The mouthful of booze had progressed to his stomach for the most part, radiating a peculiar warmth. In a few minutes he felt a little more open, slightly relaxed.

Mizuki pitched a pebble into the stream, his eyes distant. He absently watched Iruka, the setting sun, the flowing water.

"Thanks for staying out here with me tonight. I didn't want to go back."

"I like taking care of you, Ru. Don't even think about it." Mizuki was only partially satisfied with the results of alcohol. Enough to put Iruka out of it would be enough to make him ill, now and the next day as well. The instructors might notice. Iruka would be resistant. There had to be another answer to bringing him under complete control.

The problem was complicated. When he tried a suppression jutsu after Iruka fell asleep, it worked, but he couldn't hold it if he got too into the activities. Sure, using pulse points to knock him out worked for now, but too many times and the cumulative effect could become apparent and spoil everything. There had already been a few mishaps.

He was able to hold him tight all night tonight, though, something that would have made the kid too uncomfortable without the booze. That only served to make Mizuki uncomfortable in a much more specific way. In the largely sleepless night, the strapping chunin's brain wrestled with the problem again…and he hit on an idea. The idea grew into a carefully considered plan.

The next morning, Mizuki met with the training coordinator and launched into his request. Because he had been passed over for jounin promotion, he needed an edge. A specialty. He was talented in the sciences, and wanted to focus on chemistry: poisons, poisoned weaponry and chemical-based jutsus. He did love lab work; truly, he had taken extra classes and worked as an aide in the lab when he was younger. He wanted to be tutored and have self-directed study as intensive preparation to ready his skills for the next selections. Mizuki was far and away one of the strongest shinobi of his age group in chakra and physical strength, and number one in termination skills. He lacked in stability, reliability, and the fact that he had no specialty.

He submitted that he could address all three shortcomings working at the lab. The coordinator, seeing no harm in it, concurred. Pandora's Box was open now, and Mizuki had full access to the dangerous delights within.

_tbc _


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks for waiting, sorry for the delay...I have been avoiding the more graphic details in the relationship here, and I am undecided if that is adding to or taking away from the story. Opinions?_

**Chapter 8**

Mizuki did have more than just a knack for chemistry. He produced a few flashy, impressive disorientation gasses right off the bat to give his senpai at the lab something to account for his time and ingredients. His true formulation, an attempt to perfect a temporary enslavement drug, was starting off with a bang. He smuggled some out in a vial and introduced it into a mixture of fruit juice and bourbon, preferring the dark alcohol as it covered up the odd colors in his potion.

Iruka drank it down, reluctantly obedient as always, and promptly fell in a heap. Okay, much too strong, he was looking for something more gradual, and he would prefer unaware as opposed to unconscious. Still, he didn't want to waste this time. He took Iruka by the vest and hauled him up into a tree, concealing them with a jutsu inspired by the one Iruka had used here long before.

Waking up in one of the walk-in medical facility's cots was becoming embarrassingly habitual. This time with a dislocated shoulder and a horrible lower back ache, because his friend had discovered him on the ground, presumably after he had fallen out of the tree again. Mizuki helped him make up stories to cover up his ineptitude, else he might be held back from the genin promotion so close to happening now. Heck, he'd hit his head so hard he didn't remember himself what happened. He wondered if he might be giving himself permanent brain damage from getting knocked out so often.

"What's wrong with me, Ki?" Iruka asked Mizuki, greatly discouraged after his latest injury. "I get so confused sometimes. This just isn't right."

"Ru-kun, you're just stressing over nothing. Everyone spends their genin years beat to crap. It's part of the training, it makes you stronger. The other kids just have homes to recover in and parents to make their excuses for them. It's…it's just like the thing with your torn clothes. Everyone tears their clothes now and then during training and all, don't you think? But do you ever see any evidence of it on the others? Of course not. You're tough, you're doing great! No matter what happens, you bounce right back." Mizuki tugged his ponytail playfully.

"But…these things don't happen while I'm training. They happen at night."

"You're just thinking that. I'll bet most of your injuries happen during the day and cause the things that happen at night. You wouldn't fall at night if you weren't hurt and exhausted from your training during the day. And if you were one of the other kids, your fall would be no more than a short tumble from bed to floor. Not everyone sleeps out in the woods where anything can happen; I'll bet not a one of them has every tried to spend the night in a concealment jutsu up high." Mizuki was on a roll, coming up with glib answers for all of Iruka's concerns. "We could resolve that, you know. If I can keep getting steady missions, I'll be able to afford to get my own place. Then you can move in with me. No one has to know. And most of those problems you're having will resolve themselves."

Iruka nodded slowly. It did sound like a solution to this very worrisome problem; it was beginning to weigh on his mind constantly. He had been trying to figure it out on his own; but his options were limited. Mizuki was already helping him more than he could really ask for; and going to any of the adults with this was just asking for trouble. Without Mizuki, he would be at their mercy.

"You always have to bail me out," Iruka said quietly. "I don't thank you enough."

"Ru," Mizuki pulled him close into a rough hug. "You know you can always trust me. We're a team. No thanks are necessary. Your loyalty is enough. We're there for each other."

"Yeah," Iruka looked up, and his smile seemed to make the whole world brighter. "Each other."

He returned the hug and they sat together for some time, each grateful in very different ways for their close alliance.

0o0o0o0

If he didn't have Mizuki there to save him, he'd have been done for long ago. The more they were together, the more inseparable they had become. The other kids in Iruka's classes were hateful and mean, cruel in the ways they made fun of him; at least that's how Mizuki interpreted every exchange he'd ever heard about between Iruka and the others. He warned and advised Iruka on how to get even, keep them at bay so they wouldn't be so hurtful, and to avoid spending time with them outside of class. He helped set up pranks, some almost dangerous, instructing him how to make it look funny and conceal the very serious nature of some of the basic set-ups. By the time genin promotions were upon them, Iruka had a reputation as class clown and madman prankster. Some kids had received minor injuries from some of his stunts, but under Mizuki's watchful glare declined to report it. With that image, it was no surprise he still had no friends at school. Only admirers and critics.

Sandaime was at a loss to understand how this boy had changed so drastically, yet looked and seemed to be so much the same as he was before when he talked to him one-on-one. All the reports from the academy, Aburame-san, and the local patrols painted Iruka as a near-delinquent or mal-adjusted, lost soul. There was some of that lost soul in those sincere brown eyes. But he detected none of the evil spirit that was being attributed to him. He was a very sad young man behind that defiant smile, but that was to be expected. He had an odd way of lurking around the memorial, afraid to be seen, that disturbed the Hokage most of all. To pay respects at the memorial was a noble and honorable act. The need to hide it in what appeared to be shame or fear was just not right.

Sometimes he would see Iruka, in person or once in a grand while in his crystal globe, moving about the memorial area. Sandaime would take time, if he could, go run into him 'accidentally' on purpose.

It was odd to see the boy who had been something like a fan of his as a youth cower in his presence and then become defensive and silent.

Try as he might to get Iruka to come stay with him, he refused. He could have ordered it, he supposed, but that would be a smudge on the boy's reputation that might not ever be erased. A couple of times he had succeeded in getting him to join him for a walk in the courtyard, but never would he enter the Third's residence. Even when he explained things as best he could, about the righteousness of mourning at the memorial and the wisdom of accepting love and support from others, of rejoining the human family as a whole, Iruka ended up running away from him.

He seemed to have his own path, and with a brief meditation on the problem, Sandaime decide to let the boy seek his own answers. It was clear that he understood that the door to the Hokage residence was always open to him, any time, now or in the future. Iruka would always be able to change his mind. But no one should do it for him.

Mizuki had been aware of the exchanges between the powerful, wise man and his little Iruka. It was a problem he was reluctant to deal with. That man was smart enough, and had powers of observation well beyond the common nin. Too much time around him, and the days of Iruka as constant companion would be numbered.

"You should be wary," he informed the tired brunette, who was worn out from attack relays and laps around the village. Iruka had been ordered to do the extra drills as a penalty for some bit of vandalism that was never made clear to him. It didn't sound even vaguely familiar, but he took the credit and the punishment for the act anyway.

"About what?" He stretched and rolled on his side, shivering a little. The cold weather was coming upon them now, making harder to enjoy the time by the riverbank.

"Sandaime. You best not tell him you're anything but perfectly happy. He's thinning out the herd, Iruka. The orphans, the older ones are becoming troublesome. The ones that don't shape up are being farmed out to civilian families for adoption. They aren't allowed to re-enter the academy, and they're stripped of their status. Too many young men died in all the destruction of the demon attack. They need strong backs to work the farms, to tend the crops that feed the village. If you don't want to end up in the fields you better steer clear of him. He must already have you in his sights. Just be careful, if he ever asks you to stay with him. If you agree, it's a sign of weakness, and he'll wash you out of the shinobi program!"

"He did," Iruka gasped. "He did ask me to stay with him!" And he had been tempted. It would have been a home, with a fatherly man he had always known, and somehow, inside, his ungrateful, cowardly heart still seemed to think he needed a safer place to stay.

"No! Shit, Iruka, what did you tell him?" Mizuki feigned alarm, smiling inside. Iruka bought his story hook, line and sinker,

"I told him no!" Shock was evolving into anger. _How evil of the old man to play on his homelessness like that!_

"Well, then, you have nothing to worry about. Just stay away from him, Iruka."

"Yeah, no kidding. No way would I let him do that to me!" His fine jaw was jutting out in determination.

"Right. Settle down, you'll hyperventilate. Let me see those bruises again, how the heck did you manage to get so banged up, and there of all places?"

"Unh…oh, you don't …you don't need to look again, it's okay. I'm not sure, I must have landed wrong somehow doing the rappelling…I don't remember it hurting, but I get bruised real easy, I never remember how I get them."

"Let me look, just to be sure." Mizuki took a quick look, admiring his collateral damage from the night prior. Good thing Sandaime hadn't seen it. "Looks fine, I bet you're right, looks like you landed too hard against a branch or something." Or banged against river rocks while being dragged across them on the way back to your bedroll, he shrugged. Same difference.

Iruka rubbed his backside gingerly. "It sure hurts now, though."

"Yeah, you do bruise funny. You need more vitamin C or something." He patted that soft brown hair and smiled, getting a warm look in return. His latest formula was working much better, and once he got the recipe down pat there really wouldn't be a need to keep working at the lab. Life was damned near perfect outside of work. It was time to make all of his life complete. Iruka was genin now, working up to chunin rather quickly, but Mizuki had been turned down in a bid for jounin status again. He wasn't going to give them much longer to come to their senses. But now he'd need to make sure that when the time came, if he were to leave the village, Iruka would go too. He needed to slow Iruka's ascent up the ranks.

Slowing him was a challenge. Iruka was good at all of the basics. He had advanced tag skills, and he was deadly accurate with projectiles. He was an efficient blend of dedication, courage and tactical savvy, tempered with a warm personality and emotional intelligence.

Most of those attributes needed to be squashed, at least for now.

There wasn't much Mizuki could do about the marksmanship or the tag skills. But the confidence and the courage were just waiting to be tweaked down. Now that the enslavement drug was showing more promise, the erosion of those traits would be a side benefit to the new level of fun he had already planned on having. It needed more testing, but there appeared to be a great deal of subconscious residue from the events that took place under influence of his potion. Iruka's subconscious reactions to receiving the drink already directly correlated to the last experience under the influence. If it had been mere sex, there was a light blush and a little shy unwillingness to take the drink. If it involved injury or psychological distress, he resisted stubbornly until asked several times.

He simply needed to crank up the severity of the inflicted traumas. And the word or two to he'd had with the medical staff the last time they were there should have had a domino effect. He'd suggested gently, out of Iruka's hearing, that the boy seemed a little, you know, unstable. That he seemed to have these 'accidents' when he was alone. That if he wasn't so well acquainted with Iruka, he might think that he was hurting himself. Perhaps his instructors should know, so they could observe him more closely, since they were older and wiser in the ways of human behavior.

The medic-nin had nodded, somewhat interested at least. Mizuki couldn't tell if concern or sloth was going to win out on that one. It was more paperwork and effort to send the referral to the training office than to just ignore it.

Iruka and his contemporaries weren't in the traditional three students to one jounin sensei apprenticeship regimen. There simply weren't enough jounin sensei to go around. They went on all D ranks and select lower C ranks without any supervision, not too different from when they were genin. But mid-C to lower B ranks were often performed with only a chunin as the ranking team member. Group sessions with the jounin doing critique provided them with direction in between missions as they self-taught in the field; the sparring and physical training was done in class-size numbers as well. The genin were selected in random order for the tasks, seldom teamed with the same peers. The usual team comradeships were not formed through the training sessions. Iruka's tight and rather exclusive friendship with Mizuki, despite his higher rank, was not seen as remarkable at all under these conditions.

When the head of training received the note from the infirmary, he had to wonder. Iruka had been a real troublemaker in the academy. Since promoting he seemed to have settled into the training and missions; whether because of maturity, or the removal from the classroom setting, or a combination of both, it was a big turnaround for the boy. He was beginning to outshine the rest of the group, to show some definite talents and abilities befitting the son of two well-respected, powerful jounin. But he did seem a little soft at times.

And he certainly had more than his share of injuries and trips to the infirmary. Just two weeks prior, he had passed out on the training field shortly after the day's training started. Two of his classmates had carted him to the infirmary under orders from the day's training sensei and dumped him off; no word had come back as to what the problem was, and by noon Iruka was back, slipping into line for the relay they were in the midst of and grimly toughing his way through the rest of the day.

Something like this might not be so serious in a D or lower C rank mission. But chunin level? He would be at risk, and a liability to his teammates.

The training coordinator tapped his pen on the roster, vacillating. Umino had been showing steady improvement, and nearly a dozen months had been invested in the kid already. It was just a suspicion. He could just keep an eye on him and decide later.

No, if he waited, he might forget, might overlook too much. But for the boy's sake, for his future, he had decided not to put any of these damning doctor's suspicions in writing. He scribbled a rationale about past delinquent behavior and made a mental note as well. Umino was off the two-year track for chunin promotion. He would not be able to promote automatically at any age. He would have to pass the jounin-panel administered tests with a ninety percent or higher score to move up.

It was for the kid's own good. If he had the right stuff, he'd still make chunin eventually. And short staffed as they were, watching over people for individual problems simply took too many man hours.

He went to the file and pulled out the notice, distinct on its yellow paper. The completed form was tucked in an envelope and sent with a messenger to be delivered to the cot in the boy's ward room.

o0o

He found the notice on the floor, the envelope already ripped open and left on his bed. Two older boys sat snickering at him as he picked it up and read it, eyes welling and heart pounding.

Off track? He'd been so diligent, so good…he had stopped pranking, letting the insults roll off his back these days. It had been getting easier, and there were far fewer put-downs once he started to outshine his colleagues.

Now everyone would know. Possibly, they all knew before he did. It had been two whole days since he last showed up at his spot in the ward – he only came by to do laundry. How long ago the notice had been opened and who all had read it was unknown.

"Hot shot," said the taller boy, swinging a leg over the side of his upper-berth bed. "You'll still be genin when you're a grandpa."

"You're wrong. He'd have to get laid to be a grandpa. That ain't ever gonna happen," laughed the other boy.

Iruka's anger and devastation waged war, and in the end, he walked away. He felt like he could have killed them both, or walked away, and there was no middle ground. It was a flip of the coin in his head.

He'd been almost halfway into the accelerated training, and the blow was devastating.

"I tried to warn you," Mizuki said, stirring the surface of the stream with a dry branch. "You keep running into the bugman, and you don't hide fast enough from the Sandaime. I don't know which one, but I'll bet one of them put in the bad word. What else could it be? You've been perfect. This village is like that, Ru-kun. You're either in, or you're out. Just try not to take it too personally. They treat me the same, jounin selections are coming up again, but do you think they'll do the right thing? We just can't let them get us down."

Iruka stared at the motions of the stick in the water, numb now after the first shock and pain.

"I only had another year to go. Now, who knows? I'm like an anchor. A dead weight."

"Ru-kun," Mizuki said in a husky, subdued voice. "You're none of those things. You're my partner. We'll be fine, because we're a team. No matter what. Why, if they sent you to the farms, I'd go with you. Seriously. We'll stick together to the end. And together, we'll make our own rules someday. Their petty judgments of rank and such are meaningless. I know who you are, and how much you're capable of. Hang in there a while longer and try not to get too discouraged. Learn from the training and prepare yourself for whatever might come. Trust me, there are other options out there beside their precious shinobi rank and file."

Even in his depression, that last statement stuck in Iruka's head. He had been totally focused on becoming a jounin one day. What if he didn't? What if he failed? Or, unexpectedly intriguing – what if he, himself, voluntarily chose another path?

He'd never considered it. Never checked the side branches to his bull-headed career path. He never seemed to fit in with the other students – could it be because he truly was misplaced?

He remembered being puzzled when one of the students left shinobi track to study as an apprentice to the armament specialist. He would not be a true ninja, although his title would have equivalent rank at the end of his training.

Some of the kids had been dismissive, but a number had been jealous of the unique, valuable skills they would never attain in their own track. The boy had been selected because he had voluntarily assisted the specialist on his own time and was best-qualified when the opening came up.

Iruka hadn't even been aware that there was such a job as armament specialist until someone else had landed it. Swayed by the way this latest blow to his confidence seemed to echo the doubt in his ability that his parents had embraced as they went to their graves, he decided to place his name on the list to volunteer for collateral assignments as soon as he returned for training the next day. After all, what did he have to lose? It was the only straw he could think to grasp for; at least it was a way to try and buoy up his sagging spirits. The small hope skirted the edge of his mind as he embraced his partner's offer of comfort for the night.

_tbc_


	9. Chapter 9

_Finally back with an update...so sorry for the delay. Warning: of kind of "M" rated action at the end - still conservative in my opinion; I value your feedback to see if you disagree..._

**Chapter Nine**

The temporary hope that came with putting his name on the list faded long before any results came from it. A full six months went by; and while Iruka continued to train with the others, doing every bit as well, it was with the isolation and bitter knowledge that in the end, they would advance, and he would not.

Instead, he would be left behind on his own to man the backlog of lower D-ranks, review what he'd already learned with solo training and work on practice drills to occupy his time. He would be in limbo until the passing group of pre-genin was ready to move up and form the next genin class for him to join. Many more months would then have to pass in order to meet the standard minimum time-in-genin-status requirements before being allowed to take any proficiency test.

Everyone knew he was being held back thanks to the boys who had opened the notice in the ward, and the most popular opinion voiced _almost_ out of his earshot was that he was too much of an immature cry-baby to advance with the rest. He tried to time his visits to the memorial so that no one else would be there, right from the very first time he'd gone there to grieve; but there were so many others vying for private time to pay their respects, it was nearly impossible. He refused to be pressured into not going at all. He refused to apologize for any tears shed in honor of his parents, or protest that it had been many months since he had done so, in spite of their talk. It was none of their business.

The gossip had grown until he now used stealth to visit the stone just to avoid any harassment. Mizuki had offered to stand guard for him, but that seemed like it would surely make it worse; it would look like he had to get someone else to fight his battles for him. It was small comfort that the things they said about him were not true; in fact, it made him feel more frustrated and vulnerable. Lies could spiral in any direction no matter what he did. He hadn't shed a single tear in over a year for any reason, and he had no intention of ever doing so again if he could help it, but he had been freshly branded as a crybaby. He could probably kick ninety percent of his classmate's asses in a fair fight, but they still called him weak. And he himself had no idea why they'd held him back. He didn't believe that lame excuse about the times he'd been in trouble. Mizuki had suggested that it was the Third, or the bug jounin, or the both of them that decided to keep picking on him because he had no parents to protest against it, and that was the only halfway reasonable explanation that he had found. He wasn't sure how he could have handled all of this without Mizuki in his corner, commiserating and helping him figure it all out.

Twice now, since being pulled off-track, he'd lost his temper and ended up in a fight, both times with groups of boys. Not very smart. He'd given as good as he'd gotten, though, in spite of the odds. And being one against many kept him from disciplinary action. Even though he'd thrown the first punch that started the melee in both occasions, his opponents didn't want to be identified and accused of ganging up on a peer; and Iruka refused to name them through his split lip and bloody nose. Rumblings of a rematch were always in the background, but the overworked sensei was either oblivious or chalked it up to the normal flux of the pecking order. In any event, officially, none of it ever happened.

It was important to him to stay out of the limelight if he ever hoped to get his shot at chunin, but his self-control was thinning. He was desperately grateful when word came through that he finally qualified for a collateral assignment; Toma-sensei had discreetly called him aside and handed him the papers when they were alone. It helped a great deal that he didn't have to bear any ridicule along with his disappointment when the long-awaited news arrived. The assignment Iruka received was that of teacher's aide for the pre-genin classes. It was an embarrassingly wimpy job; it sounded like baby-sitting, and he was no babysitter. And these much younger kids could be his classmates before too much longer. It felt like he was going backwards instead of forwards. It would be a death-blow to his reputation. And for what? It wouldn't be of any value to him at all. It was a job so simple an old woman could do it, and it would bore him out of his mind.

It only took the first hour to find out just how wrong he was.

With a mini-kunai protruding painfully from his hip, he tried fruitlessly to hustle the group back into line after a small disagreement had broken out during throwing practice. The kids were curious enough about him to behave well for almost the first five minutes after the sensei left them in his charge. After that, they proceeded to test his abilities as a supervisor to the limit, ignoring his direction and growing more and more disobedient. A deliberately aimed rock whizzed through the hair of his ponytail and when he spun to find the culprit, the whole class seemed to be in on it, clapping and laughing in delight at their pint-sized act of treason.

That prank got them more than they bargained for. Iruka's fiery temper flared up and he blasted them verbally until they were leaning away with wide eyes and open mouths. Silence fell over the group and they sidled into their proper place, never taking their eyes off of him.

When the sensei returned he observed the group standing in straight lines and taking their turns in an orderly manner; he nodded to Iruka with a knowing chuckle.

"Nice work, Umino. Looks like you've got their number."

Iruka nodded back with a dark look. This was not fun, regardless of his success at it. They filed into the classroom, and a lesson on basic messenger handling started. Each student was soon wrestling awkwardly with an old, senile bird. The poor things had been hauled out of retirement and deposited with flailing feathers on their small polished desktops.

The sensei and Iruka went around and worked individually with the kids, helping them to understand and apply the techniques that would bring the bird into obedience while they fumbled to learn the right way to attach the message capsule.

This was entirely different. Iruka's easygoing ways and clear, logical demonstration skills had him helping more students than the sensei by the time they had the entire classroom covered. One-on-one, the kids were a lot friendlier and easier to deal with; they actually wanted his help and paid attention. Although he would be reluctant to admit it, he already felt more accepted by these kids than he could ever remember feeling with his own peers. In the end it seemed that Iruka's kids had slightly better confidence in handling their birds. The sensei was impressed.

"You may have a gift for teaching, Iruka-kun," Masato-sensei said after the classroom emptied at the end of the long, challenging day. Several of the kids had tried to stay back and gather around Iruka to find out more about him; the teacher had just finished shooing them out and closing the door. "Listen, this is something you should seriously think about. We're hurting for staff right as it is, and there's been talk of recruiting new trainers at the apprentice level to have them ready when the next teachers retire. That would make the timing just about right for someone in your stage of development. I hope you'll keep an open mind about this. I won't kid you, this job is very difficult. And there are those who don't see the importance of it. But I wouldn't go back and change a day of my career. This is a position as vital to the village as that of Hokage. The very future of Konoha rests on the shoulders of those who teach its young. You would find it very rewarding and meaningful. It's difficult to compete with the obvious glory and glamour you see so much of with the jounin lifestyle. But a man who chooses this path has rewards that more than compensate for sacrificing those things. You just need to have the right conviction, the right degree of loyalty and selflessness."

Iruka rubbed the stained spot on his hip where the mini-kunai had pierced. "Well, it's more hazardous than I thought it would be," he joked.

The older man grinned. "Just one managed to get you? A lesser man would have looked like a porcupine, the way they were behaving." He reached down and with a quick touch of chakra, the wound was gone. Iruka looked mildly surprised.

"Flash healing of minor wounds is a basic for this job," he explained. He continued to look at Iruka intently, as if he were assessing him still. "I lost my last aide a few months after the early promotions were announced. Seems that she wanted to get more training in to make sure she would qualify for acceleration. Now all I have are open requests for assistance for the rest of the school year. You're the first person they've sent me since. They usually rotate the assistants in and out, but I guess you can tell that you don't really have any competition for this. Look, give this an honest try. And if you find it suits you, I'll see if they will let me extend your time so you can work here for the rest of the school year. It may interfere with your fast-track training, so we'll need to fit in some compensatory lessons here. I may be getting ahead of myself…but I want you to think about it. Report back here tomorrow for duty, and we can talk again after class."

"You mean…as an apprentice?"

"Oh…no, don't misunderstand me. This offer I'm making to you now is for the collateral assignment as a teaching aide only. You'll have to perform well and prove yourself in that position first. Then you would go through the application process for apprenticeship. Although, with the acceleration, you might already be chunin by then and you could just apply for the regular staff position. The apprenticeship is a way to bridge a genin level nin into the position so you can work on getting credentialed simultaneously while they are still working on their chunin promotion. The standard sensei rank is chunin, and you would normally have to wait and do your first year or two as chunin under probation to earn the credential. It lets someone work ahead until their rank catches up."

Iruka hesitated. He liked Masato-sensei, and the last thing he wanted to do was give him a bad impression. But he figured he'd better be honest.

"I've been taken off fast-track, sensei," Iruka said hesitantly. He could tell right away that his elder took this news very seriously. From the length of the pause it created before he got any reply, he half-expected to be asked to withdraw from this program as well.

"Is that so? A bright young man like you?" The older man said finally, with a look of concern. Rifling through his recent memory, he hadn't seen this revelation coming at all. When the name had been submitted to him, he had not been careless about screening the candidate. He'd pulled Iruka's training records and thumbed through them without seeing anything remarkable. His file was stuffed with irrelevant things, copies of practice mission reports, target accuracy results and old quizzes and test scores. Really, just seeing his grades would cover that. But other than a few incident reports regarding mischief he'd been disciplined for well over a year ago, there was little else. A generous handful of referrals to the medical unit for training injuries were neatly stapled on the inside cover in chronological order. That was the only unusual aspect to his student record. Apparently, they hadn't managed to associate the paperwork for the fast-track removal in his file. "What happened?"

"Nothing! I don't understand. I was doing really well. And all the paperwork says is that it's due to 'prior disruptive behavior'. I had some troubles pre-genin, but I've been very good since! I was a whole year on fast-track, without any big problems…but they took me off anyway. They did it months ago. And everybody in my unit knows about it."

"I already know something of your behavior in your pre-genin classes. You maintained passing marks in spite of it." Masato was puzzled. Many of the village's greatest shinobi were the worst cut-ups in the classroom. This made no sense to him at all. "Still…I will look into it. I doubt that this will have an effect on your assignment as far as I'm concerned, Iruka. If you've told me the truth, I don't think we have anything to worry about. You're still qualified to assist here, and it doesn't change my opinion of you."

"Thank you, Masato-sensei. I'll be back tomorrow, and promised to consider what you've told me very seriously." Iruka bowed and left, a bit sobered at having to confess to his bad behavior and loss of acceleration privileges. It would have been bad enough that the older man knew without the embarrassment of having to say it himself.

He liked Masato-sensei much more than he had liked his genin instructors already. It was very appealing, the idea of getting trained one-on-one by this man, instead of en masse with the group of peers that always acted as if they had no use for him.

He reported for work every day over the course of the next week and as he began to get to know the kids, things improved to the point where he could see himself becoming a part of this team after all. As soon as the last school day of the week was over, he stayed after to talk, determined that he would accept the offer the sensei had made, if it was still an option. The chance to break off from the other genin for something more positive was far too good to pass up. He was even a little excited about it.

Masato didn't stand and chat at the doorway. He closed the door, silently pointed Iruka to one of the small student chairs, and stood looking down at him as he sat. His stony stare didn't give away any clues as to what he was about to say. Iruka sat quietly, not sure what to expect. The easy camaraderie they'd shared while teaching in the classroom all week had just vanished. This was his superior, his upper ranked senior, directing him in a way that stressed the difference in their stations. Iruka knew from repeat experience that when adults pulled rank on him, he shouldn't take anything for granted. His full attention was expected, and Iruka complied in wide-eyed, worried silence.

"I understand that you've been assigned in the teen ward for your housing, Iruka," the sensei said, very seriously. "That's a difficult environment to be in. We have to think in terms of probability of success before we offer someone the challenge of juggling sensei training and shinobi training at the same time. It doesn't really do anyone any good to set you up for failure. I understand, too," he went on, watching Iruka closely, "that you have been injured a number of times after hours. The number and variety of these injuries is rather remarkable. Is there anything you'd like to tell me about that? I will tell you up front that I will respect your confidence."

Iruka fidgeted. "I don't actually stay at the ward. I kind of…camp out a lot. Things sort of happen sometimes because of it. But I do all right. I get my homework done. I get by." He felt a sinking sensation. It sounded like the sensei was changing his mind, thinking that Iruka was not in a position to continue as aide.

"You choose to be homeless," Masato said mildly.

It provoked him suddenly. "I _choose_? I chose nothing! My parents died in the Kyuubi attack and the village took away my home! They put me in that ward, like it's some kind of big favor, so I can sleep with one eye open and still get pushed around and made fun of. What am I supposed to do? Just take it? Be their chew toy? I'm just doing what I have to do, until I can find a way to support myself!" His face reddened with anger, and his mouth clamped shut too late. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be ingratiating himself, fighting for the chance to stay on - not blasting the man for something he had nothing to do with!

"Okay, okay! I get it, settle down now. I think you're going to like what I have to say next, then, even more. The ward is just not a suitable environment for you, so I had an idea. We have a couple of living spaces, very small efficiency apartments, located in mid-town. Usually, these are used for incentive. We let the new chunin sensei stay there for six months to a year when they first sign on. It helps defray their loss of income, since we discourage them from taking any missions during their initial probation period on the teaching staff. Well, due to the personnel shortage, the apartments aren't going to be used for a year at least. I thought I would offer the use of one to you. It comes all utilities provided…and you do realize that your assistant position, if you sign on for the duration, comes with a paycheck. It's very modest compensation – but with the small orphan's stipend you'll get by giving up your space in the teen ward, it should be enough for food and essentials."

Iruka's jaw dropped. The first thing his mind latched on was the idea of getting his small bag of personal items back from Mizuki and actually having a place to keep them.

"But…BUT," the sensei warned, "it isn't a complete 'gimme'. There are restrictions. At your age, since you're still genin, there's a fairly strict level of supervision required. As your evaluator I'll have a key as well. I'll have rights of entry at any time. And I will be checking on you, sometimes without warning. If you've got some bad habits or deep dark secrets, you'll have to set them aside for the time being, or I promise you I'm going to find out every one of them."

Those words bounced off the bubble of his euphoria. A key, and the right of entry, was a restriction? The man could come in anytime as far as he was concerned, it would still be tons more privacy than a tent in the woods or sleeping strapped to a tree. "It sounds too good to be true." Iruka, still just fourteen, would be enjoying incredible fortune: still genin yet living so well on his own.

"You've shown me some very special qualities. I think a little leg up is all you need." Masato had been alarmed after discussing the true reasons for Iruka's removal from fast track with his current sensei; it had been disturbing to hear of the things he had purposely left out of Iruka's file to preserve his chances to make rank someday. Iruka seemed well suited to teaching, and he seemed likely to need the extra supervision that this situation would provide. Both his genin sensei and Masato agreed that if Iruka would go along, this was an excellent resolution to all of their concerns about his behavior. "So, are we in agreement?"

Iruka hesitated. Mizuki would not like it if he made this decision without conferring with him. But he just couldn't see a downside; and now, they wouldn't have to sneak around and worry about whether to stay together when Mizuki got his apartment. They would each have their own place.

"I am grateful. I will do my best to meet your expectations. The restrictions are more than reasonable. I accept." He bowed low.

"Excellent." The sensei breathed a sigh of relief. He truly liked Iruka, and now, he would be able to get closer and see to it that any self-destructive behavior was identified and dealt with.

O0oo0o0o0o0o

When he gave the news to Mizuki, the older boy was pensive. It went contrary to his greedy plan to have Iruka by his side every night; but it wasn't terribly disruptive in the long run. They could be just as together at Iruka's as they would be at his place. And maybe he could move in with Iruka instead, eventually. The apartment wasn't far from where he'd planned to find a rental.

He hadn't quite gotten around to making the move yet, anyway. The temptation to extend the excuses that kept their outdoor maneuvers going had been just a little too great. This would push him into making that move, the circumstantial changes substituting for the willpower he just couldn't quite come up with.

He knew it was unavoidable; that their relationship would have to change eventually. It was a testament to his scientific brilliance that his wonder drugs had enabled him to keep Iruka so oblivious and well-controlled this long. But there was an element of luck to it as well, and so far no one from the village had stumbled onto their activities. He'd had a couple of close calls, and they had even been caught once by a stranger who had enjoyed the show and luckily was not enough of a friend of Konoha to blow the whistle on him. Now that Iruka would be seen up close every morning by the sensei, the risk of discovery was greatly increased. He wasn't entirely certain if an experienced shinobi would still be able detect anything by the next morning, but it would only have to happen once to risk everything.

It was clearly the right time to work on making their partnership into more, so much more, by elevating their physical relationship so that it could continue with Iruka's knowledge and consent.

Because their bodies already knew each other so well, he was sure that it would make the transition seem more natural, more 'meant to be'; but the few passes he'd made already had been greeted with startled, stilted response. It seemed that the first subconscious memories that his intimate touch aroused were not the ones based in pleasure, but perhaps those of being helpless and in pain; at times, even at mortal risk. Up to a point, he was able to get quite close to Iruka. Then he would hit some invisible threshold and the warmth and intimacy of the moment would go cold.

Instead of letting his rage get the best of him when that addicting warmth was cut off, Mizuki channeled his energy into raw determination - he would simply keep trying until he hit upon the right angle to break down the wall of resistance. Between his chemical helpers and his strong emotional hold on the sweet brunette, shifting their relationship was just a matter of patience, persistence and careful manipulation. The most difficult aspect was managing his own urges and aggression; he could not afford many slip-ups during this delicate transitional period.

Iruka was still his to keep. He was no longer young enough to be considered a defenseless child, so the watchful eyes of the Aburame and the Third were rarely interested in the boy's whereabouts these days. The boy had squared off against most of his contemporaries in thinly hidden resentment and the anger of rejection, eliminating his peers as a factor in any natural competition for his budding adolescent affections.

The massive tow-headed shinobi had time, motive and opportunity all on his side. His quarry was already culled from the shelter of the herd. He had no reason to entertain the thought of failure.

The first rude awakening to Mizuki's plan came when he discovered that he would not have an easy time trying to spend the night in Iruka's new place, at least, not at first. It seemed that the sensei Iruka was working with made it clear that for the first few months, he needed to be available for a room check at any and all hours of the day or night. If Iruka had not agreed, the offer of the apartment would have been rescinded.

Masato-sensei told Iruka that it was standard because he was under sixteen and genin. That wasn't the entire truth. Age and rank were factors; but the main reason he was required to submit to such scrutiny was due to the recommendation of his genin sensei, who had witnessed too many unexplained injuries and felt it was asking for trouble to let the boy hole up alone if he was given to hurting himself.

"The first week, we should take turns, and do a check at a random hour each night. Get it set in his head that he can't be certain of complete, uninterrupted privacy at any particular time. That way, if he is self-inflicting these injuries, he'll be forced to think twice about it now. That bit of behavior modification can be enough to stop someone who is borderline depressive. And the extra attention he'll be getting doesn't seem unwelcome," Toma-sensei reflected, helping Masato sign off on the paperwork to submit to the housing section.

"Yes, when I told him we'd be checking in on him, I thought he almost seemed to be pleased. I don't think he's the hermit type. This lack of socialization with his class seems to be more situational; he's an unusually open and friendly kid for his age, at least he is around me."

"He might grow out of his problems, Masato, but I think he would have ended up dying in the field if I left him on fast track. Even if he's just accident-prone, he can't be going on missions if he's not safe camping out alone at night! He shouldn't be promoted until he can prove his fitness for duty beyond any doubt. This is the best thing we can do for him. It's better than I would have been able to do alone, I really don't have time to do any individual monitoring. After the first couple of weeks you're on your own with him as far as that goes. Don't be too lenient, though. If he's not going to cut it, the sooner you wash him out the better. You know how rough the transition is once they're this old. Waiting and sending him down to civilian status after he gets much older is downright cruel."

"He's no wash-out, Toma. But regardless of his situation, there's nothing that can happen to him at the academy, so let's just give it some time and see how it goes."

Toma took the first two nights. At eleven on the first night and at one a.m. on the second, he rapped on the door and roused Iruka out of bed. He got a good look at him through the slightly open door just to make sure he was all right, and left without much else said but goodnight.

Masato took the third night. He knocked and waited. It was shortly after midnight, not all that late. Iruka called out his name before he came padding to the door to open it. Good, good, Masato thought. He had used his chakra naturally to identify his caller before even making a sound that would reveal he was inside.

The door opened just a little, as far as the short security chain would allow. Iruka gave him a pleased, if slightly sleepy, smile. "It's you tonight!"

"Yes, Iruka-kun. Are you going to make me stand outside?"

"Oh!" Iruka was a little startled, then unchained and opened the door. "Sorry. Toma-sensei just wants to see me come to the door."

"It's all right." He patted Iruka on the head as he passed him on the way in, noting his ponytail was down for the night. He was in loose pajamas, hanging low on his thin hips. They seemed oversized for him.

He stepped in and looked around in the dim lighting. The place was still neat as a pin. Iruka's raveled, half-flattened futon pad with a thin blanket was the only furnishing in the room. His clothes were carefully folded and stacked on the floor next to it.

He gave himself a little kick mentally. Of course, the boy would have nothing. It looked like he had scrounged the futon from someone's trash.

If the kid knew he was indigent, his face sure didn't show it. He gave his sensei a warm smile and rubbed an eye sleepily.

Masato couldn't help but smile back. "This place suits you?"

"I like it here. Thank you again, Masato-sensei!" He glomped the older man in an impulsive hug and then stepped back unsurely. He really was sleepy, and he got carried away when he was tired sometimes. "Oh, sorry."

"It's perfectly fine," he said reassuringly. Except that a cute, relatively defenseless kid should be a little more careful in such a potentially compromising situation, especially with someone he had not known for very long. He walked into the kitchen area and pulled open the drawers and cabinets. "Pardon my intrusion, but there were some vermin problems here, I just want to make sure everything's in good shape. Haven't seen any bugs or mice, have you?" Only two drawers held anything at all. One had a few odds and ends of chopsticks, a wooden spoon and an old knife. The other held two ration bars. He pulled open the refrigerator and found a milk jug that had been refilled with water, and a couple of used teabags on a clean, upended jar lid. An old newspaper was wrapped around some field greens of the type that could be gathered from the woods nearby. He supposed the lone saucepan on the counter also provided the hot water for the lone cup by the sink.

Pathetic, really. He threw away more than this without a thought. Although, it did speak of some strong resourcefulness. Iruka was making do with what little he had rather cleverly. That seemed like a decent indicator that the boy was not feeling self-destructive, at least not now.

"We'll talk tomorrow, Iruka. I think I have a few things that I don't need anymore that you might find useful."

Iruka kept that relaxed smile as he nodded. Just this little bit of home seemed to make him immensely happy. Masato got the impression that Iruka would cheerfully do just about anything for him at this point, he was so grateful. While he felt a strong parental urge to give the kid a long, reassuring hug, he seemed happy enough without it, and there was no point in encouraging bad habits like letting one's guard down too quickly. He might bring up the lack of defensiveness tomorrow; but for tonight, everything was fine.

"Lock up behind me, Junior," Masato chuckled. Iruka followed him and did as he was told, returning to his futon and a deeply satisfied sleep, feeling safe and secure and free from nightmares for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Energized by the extra lessons and duties, Iruka's performance improved almost daily. He fit in right away and the training methods Masato came up with were well suited to him; the minimal time around his peers helped his spirits rise, and the firm footing he gained by having a safe haven at night provided him with a much greater ability to concentrate and internalize the things he learned. In short, it allowed him to finally thrive.

Masato's eagle eye eventually mellowed, and while he kept tabs on Iruka's mental status, there was little to note but enthusiasm and optimism; well, and the occasion flash of red-hot temper. He practically had to crack the kid over the head to get him to settle down on the occasions when he offered to take him to the local stand for ramen. Even the tiniest of favors delighted Iruka so much; it seemed almost criminal that he had spent so much time shelved in the teen ward unmentored.

It had puzzled him a bit when Aburame Shibi had come by to ask about the boy's progress, and had mentioned his attempt to take him in. Masato couldn't feature Iruka being so shy of the offer; but perhaps, as Shibi had suggested, Iruka was not comfortable in the family setting, and so the more formal school and workplace relationship had allowed him to drop his guard. Shibi spoke highly of Iruka and gave Masato a few insights into just how difficult a time after the Kyuubi attack had been for the boy.

Mizuki had to take a back seat to Iruka's new situation. It aggravated him unbearably. He watched from the shadows in black rage when Masato went anywhere with Iruka after school hours; evisceration would be too good for the old pervert, bribing Iruka with cast-offs and meals just to touch him. Oh, the hugs and hair scruffles and rump pats all looked innocent enough, but Mizuki knew what fantasies would be fueled with such contact. The feel of that taught body, the scent of his hair, the nervous thrill deep in your gut at the sight of his unguarded smile and doe-eyed look of affection. It probably made the old man's balls ache the same way his did, impatient for an opportunity to possess every tanned, flawless inch in as many ways as humanly possible. It added to the urgency of his quest to advance the relationship, to make it clear that Iruka was not available, not in any way, shape or form.

The situation stretched his willpower past the limit, and his only relief was to backslide when the frustrations reached critical mass. The missions were getting longer now, and the opportunities to find time to vie for Iruka's attention were often lost. Getting Iruka to come away for the night was getting more difficult no matter how he tried. When he managed it, he used excessive doses of the hypnotics and went way too far; his pent up frustrations and obsession released uncontrollably and he did things he was unable to completely hide. Their hike to the falls had ended with broken bones and the worst head injury he'd inflicted on his soulmate yet. He'd had to rush Iruka into the medics in the wee hours of the morning, the story he'd had to come up with was risky at best, and the writing was on the wall. Another incident like this and his luck would run out completely. That damned sensei was always looking at him with that sideways, distrusting glare even before this when he came by to meet up with Iruka. Afterward, he seemed even more disapproving.

Mizuki nearly came unglued trying to find a way to live without anytime access to his partner. Just a week after the incident at the falls, while he struggle in the increased scrutiny to honor the ban on after-hours visitors, he discovered that Iruka had allowed a strange little homeless kid to stay overnight. Only after venting his rage by destroying a number of trees and unlucky wild animals could the venomous shinobi calm down enough to address it in proper channels, anonymously turning Iruka in for the violation to make sure it didn't happen again.

After that, his frustrated visits to Iruka's apartment seemed to always degrade into an argument when he tried to stay and was told he could not; which forced him to either retreat, or when he had been holding out beyond his limit, to give Iruka a short dose his special drink and spend every minute of the next two hours taking full advantage of the privacy the small apartment afforded them. Knowing that Masato made spot-checks at might, he kept the activity confined to the daytime and early evening. It wasn't the exotic or creative sort of thing he indulged in out in the wild; but he managed to make it work. He managed enough healing to cover up the worst of his activities afterward. He managed to use the vivid memories of these sessions to tide himself over in between. He endured it, because it was temporary, and because as a part of his grand plan for the two of them, it was necessary.

"Ki," Iruka said when the answered the door, sadness in his eyes. He used to be so happy when Mizuki came over. But lately, he had begun to wish he didn't have to come over so often. Sometimes, when things were going really well the school, he sort of forgot about looking for Mizuki afterward. That is, until he showed up on his doorstep. It never was the other way around anymore. Iruka never sought out his partner. When he wasn't around it was fine. He took for granted that they would see each other soon enough. By developing a little more maturity, he was getting a greater sense of independence - which added a little resentment to the feeling of being monopolized by the older chunin.

He should have held his tongue like he always did, but today it finally got out: his real thoughts. "What are we going to fight about today, Ki-kun?" he asked in thinly-disguised exasperation.

The look in Mizuki's eyes stepped Iruka back. He wasn't saying anything the two of them didn't already know. They fought all the time now. But he did know better than to say something about it, to provoke the large nin with the unpleasant truth that their great comradeship was more of an unhealthy snarling match much of the time.

"We're going to fight, eh?" Mizuki growled. "You want to spar? Is that it?"

"No! No, I…I just…what are we doing, anyway? I mean, if we don't get along, if we just get angry…maybe we've just become too different. I mean, you're gonna be jounin any day. I'm probably going to be capped on advancement as soon as I reach chunin. I know the effect of being held back. I'm not stupid. They'll never let me go jounin now, no matter what I do. And you're already all missions and deadly force and poisons and munitions. Me, I'm in repeat basics, elementary learning tactics, childhood behavior and conditioned response. The gap between us is just going to widen. You just want me to be like you, but…I'm not. I'm not going to be good enough. They've been pretty clear about that. I don't have the right stuff. So now I've found something I can do instead and still make a contribution and a decent living. You have to stop being mad at me for that. If you can't then maybe we shouldn't hang out so much anymore."

Mizuki snuffed his first reaction, because mopping up the place with Iruka would only make things worse, and bring watchdog-sensei down on his ass again, not that he cared what that interfering old fart thought. But he'd managed to cause tremendous trouble and put far too much distance between the two of them already, and the last thing they needed was any more.

"Ru-kun," he said, softening his approach, gently moving Iruka aside to enter the apartment and close the door. "I don't mean to fight with you, I'm just frustrated. I don't have any problem with your teaching at the academy. And you do to have the 'right stuff'. The village just has a bunch of blind assholes controlling the promotions. They give 'em out to their pals, the Hokage's cronies, the nin that kiss their high and mighty asses. It's got nothing to do with who earns it. Just look at your situation, Ru-kun. This is why I get so angry, because you refuse to see it. They had no excuse whatsoever to take you off fast-track. You didn't bribe them, you aren't related to anyone important, and you didn't play the game, so they punished you for it. Why don't you just admit it? They flat out abused you for the fun of it. That's Konoha, Ru. You should see it for what it is."

"But…" This is the village that his parents lived and died for, that they held more love and loyalty for than their own son. The village that he himself had been raised to give his life for without question. The centerpiece of existence for them all. This treasonous talk was the furthest Mizuki had ever gone in his disrespect for their country. It made Iruka ache for his friend. To be so convinced that the village didn't mean a thing…as bleak as Iruka had felt when the village had failed to treat him as he would have hoped, it was nothing compared to this state of Mizuki's, to have lost faith in their land altogether. "I know you're just defending me, but it's no good to blame the whole village. I have a lot of flaws, Ki. They're right about me. I've had to accept it."

Mizuki burned to tell Iruka that the majority of the failings he was now so convinced of were merely doubts he himself had planted, in order to slow the trusting brunette's charge up the shinobi ranks. That if Konoha's regulators had half a wit and half their balls they wouldn't have lazily taken his sensei's doubts at face value and let a truly talented man get thrown out with the bath water. But in a way, by treating it as the truth, his prophecy had been self-fulfilling. Because a ninja's strength comes from within, and it requires a firm base of self-confidence and mastery. With the erosion of that base, Iruka truly was inferior in his potential as a deadly warrior…at least until Mizuki could get him out of here and do a custom-rebuild of his confidence, somewhere far away from the oppression of the Leaf government.

"I still believe in you more than I believe in them. And it doesn't mean that I think that becoming an instructor is a bad choice. I miss being together, that's all. You still train, but we don't do it together anymore. You have new surroundings I'm not a part of. You have your new co-workers now, and I'm sure they want to spend time with you. You expect me to just disappear, Iruka? Is that what you want? Doesn't it mean anything to you now, the way I've been there for you when your family and friends disappeared? You've replaced me in your life that easily?"

"No! No, Mizuki, I still…" Still what? Cared? Loved? Needed? Right now, all he really felt was terrible pain and slight panic; because the words made it feel frighteningly like they were tearing apart. He hadn't felt abandoned and alone since the two of them became companions. Even when they fought and there were stretches of time when they stayed apart to cool off, there was never a time where either of them thought that they were through. They were connected in a way that seemed to transcend that, as if they were blood relatives, linked in an inescapable way. "I don't want to replace you. I couldn't, not ever."

"Ru-kun," Mizuki wrapped his arms around the distressed and confused boy, pulling him close and holding him protectively until he began to relax. "You need to choose your own path. Do what's right for you. But you have to be patient, don't shut me out. I'll catch up. We don't need to be fighting. We need to be together, and I can adjust. I don't ever want you to feel like you're alone without me. I'm your safety net, your back-up, your good right arm. Just like you've been for me. Don't worry, Ru, we'll get through this. We're fine, we have to be. I don't think I could live without this, holding you close so I can feel your heart beat and know that you're all right."

Mizuki had called a truce, and it pulled everything back together. It brought with it a new realization. When he controlled himself now, he had much tighter control over Iruka. When he lost control, it caused random, unpredictable changes in the balance between them. That caused Iruka to be unsure, to be more consciously uncomfortable with his moods and behavior, and even compelled him to avoid seeing him so much. But then, when he exhibited good control and judgment, Iruka fell to him in relief from the dread of abandonment. For the short run, Mizuki managed to keep their visits from degenerating into spats as the genin time requirement grew closer to being fulfilled.

Iruka's time in status and excellent marks finally qualified him to take the chunin exam. The candidates were far too few in numbers to justify the normal festival-like chunin trials. Instead, a series of tests and a final presentation would be judged by a panel of three jounin and the Sandaime himself.

Iruka and three other boys were up for this challenge. Two of the others were from the teen ward like him. He would have called it a prejudice, and rightfully so, that the orphaned kids were made to suffer longer training, work harder, and endure rigorous testing for the same advancement in rank that was handed to the others merely for graduating from their fast-track classes.

All of them passed, and in the end, they likely were better prepared for the elevation in rank than the fast-track shinobi. When the Sandaime gave Iruka his approval, he felt the greater confidence and strength in those dark eyes. This remarkable soul was going to make him proud, he was sure of it.

The promotion meant that Mizuki and Iruka were both chunin now, and there would be little chance of penalty despite their age difference if the two were caught having a physical relationship. Mizuki's disappointment at not staying a rank above was somewhat assuaged by that. He took full advantage of it immediately.

They celebrated, Mizuki treated them to ramen, and they went back to Iruka's apartment afterwards. His brown eyes absolutely sparkled with the happiness at earning his promotion. No one could say he had lucked out or skated on any of it. He had proven himself worthy of the promotion, the doubt of which had been nagging in the back of his head ever since his best friend's rather violent attempt to warn him against premature advancement.

Mizuki seemed to be engulfing him all of a sudden. He was constantly up against him, touching, holding. He didn't mind so much tonight. The occasion was very special, and they had indulged in several generous toasts from the bottle of sake Mizuki had smuggled in for them. In fact, the bottle was nearly empty. The pink tint to either side of his distinctive scar came from the heat of the alcohol deep within.

Iruka's convertible futon, the one Masato-sensei had given him in exchange for some minor work around his home not long after he moved in here, held them both comfortably. It was set up as a couch now, the two of them sitting and drinking amicably.

Mizuki turned slightly and slipped his palm under Iruka's chin, guiding his face into the right angle for a deep, insistent kiss.

This time, when Iruka began to pull away, Mizuki held fast.

"Don't fight this, Ru-kun," Mizuki's voice was husky with lust. "To be chaste as a chunin is to beg for trouble. You must learn your body's natural potential now. There are missions in your future that will require it. You should always learn from someone you trust."

"I'm not scheduled for any of that kind of training yet," Iruka said, pulling away. "I – I'm not really ready…" his voice trailed off as his eyes locked on the large pale hands that started moving as if they had his permission.

"You are. I can prove it. Your body will be honest, even of you lie to yourself." The platinum-haired shinobi slid his hands down firmly and began to undress his Iruka, like he had so many times before. It was more exciting to do it looking into wide open eyes. Iruka was struggling within himself, wanting to get away, but wanting to be close as well.

Mizuki expertly stripped them both, brisk and confident to discourage any protest. It would have been extremely difficult if Iruka had been any more reluctant. The sake had been the right touch.

He already knew what to do, what response the lithe young body would give to each particular touch. It was a well-rehearsed dance, but a stunning experience for Iruka's conscious mind. He was swiftly taken to arousal far too intense to deny.

"You have been craving this, Iru-kun. You look as if you're going to burst." Carefully tender and seductive, the older boy nuzzled and lapped the reddened skin on Iruka's neck, feeling the heat radiating from the smaller body. His hands pressed, rubbed and squeezed all the right places until the objections became unintelligible and low, soft moaning replaced it. "Trust me, just relax. If you'll let me, my tongue can find other places that will feel much, much better."

The room was nearly melting already, and Iruka couldn't conceive of anything feeling much better than he already did. Mizuki's touch was amazing; it was drawing sensations from his body that were almost intolerably pleasurable.

Getting no objections, Mizuki stood and made a quick trip to flip off the light switch, the sight his fully aroused, mature body adding another flood of wildly mixed emotions to Iruka's already muddied thinking. The light over the range had been left on in the other room, radiating a soft glow from around the corner, sending a flattering hint of light to illuminate their 'first time'.

When he returned he settled on the floor on his knees, slipping Iruka's legs up onto his shoulder, giving him full view, control and access to his partner. As uncomfortable as that made the smaller boy in his shyness, the next move mortified him. The first touch with his tongue had Iruka gasping in shock.

"Uh! Not there!" Iruka interrupted the reflex to shove Mizuki away uncertainly, as confused by his own reactions as he was by his partner's insistence.

"Shhh," Mizuki smiled, using plenty of saliva, making the thighs in his firm grasp squirm. "It's important. You'll see."

He took a few minutes to carefully soften the resistance he found there, but after so many nights when he'd taken no time at all, the task was easy. Just being slow and careful would be enough to insure that this was not painful. But he was taking extra care. Their bodies were communicating flawlessly. Iruka just need a little time for his attitude to catch up.

When he pulled Iruka into a good position for entrance, it caused a minor panic.

"Wait! You can't…" A kneading fist began working his painful arousal, milking him into a breathless pause.

"Just feel, Ru-kun." Mizuki began slowly working in, deserting the hand work to take that perfect ass in both hands in a hard grip, kneading the large muscles to counterpoint his progress. By the time he was all the way in, the ragged breathing told him that Iruka's body was enjoying this a great deal. "Does it hurt?"

Iruka shook his head hard, too excited and dizzily nearing his peak to talk.

The futon frame squeaked as Mizuki was leaning more and more into it to penetrate fully. They didn't last long, and when Iruka came, writhing and trying to suppress the oddly erotic noises his own gasps were turning into, he nearly passed out. The room grew darker and every cell in his entire body seemed to have been agitated out of its normal place.

A few minutes later, carefully maintaining a steady rhythm to suppress his harsher urges, Mizuki came as well. He lavished Iruka with attention and praise afterwards, using the occasion of their first shower shared as lovers to reaffirm how right it was for his hands to travel every inch of the tanned body. Watching the smaller, nearly flawless maturing body as it looked from behind filled him with possessive pride while the rivulets of water cascaded to cleanse them both.

For once it was Iruka who was clinging as they fell asleep, holding him through the night as if he might fall if he let go. Breaking that barrier laid Iruka bare to their relationship, committed him totally to trust Mizuki with his unprotected heart. The older boy pulled him in tight and encouraged his dependence with open arms. As far as he was concerned, this sealed the balance of their fates together once and for all. No trite ceremony could touch the seriousness with which he regarded their union; even death could not part them now.

_tbc_


	10. Chapter 10

_OK ,so, I probably should have abandoned this fic by now, but I haven't. For those of you with the patience of saints, here it goes again. Poor souls, I've abused you almost as much as Umino at this point! _

**C****hapter Ten **

Beginning with the breaking of dawn the next morning, Mizuki staked his new claim again without giving any opportunity for second thoughts. It would be a mistake to ask for permission; it had to be clear that physical intimacy was now an expected part of their relationship. A relationship which now would have a clearer definition. They were not just good friends and they were not now going to be just buddies with infrequent, incidental benefits. Iruka waffled in his affections at times and that was going to stop, period. They were going to be committed completely now, as lovers should be.

And, of course, the sooner his young partner accepted that they were lovers in every way, the sooner they could progress into adding elements back into the act that Mizuki sorely missed.

In the weeks that followed, he had to take his opportunities whenever they presented themselves, because there were plenty of days when they would have to be apart. It was incumbent upon Iruka to begin taking missions of greater chunin-level difficulty and duration in order to round out his field experience.

It soon reached the point where Iruka could sense the change in atmospheric pressure in a room when Mizuki's thoughts were about to turn into action. The predictable pounce would come a few seconds later. Sometimes, it was exciting; sometimes it was painfully welcome if just for the company when he was feeling isolated or unsteady, as he still did fairly often during his off-duty hours without work or training to busy his heart and mind. Just a few times now, it had touched him with resentment and dread, because 'no' was not an answer that he could give without causing more problems than it was worth, and it felt belittling to have to give in whether he really wanted to or not.

Masato had arranged for him to stay on at the apartment even though he had stopped using it as an excuse to drop in and keep an eye on him some time ago; the sensei privately declared the intervention in the troubled boy's life to be a success. Now Iruka's attitude was positive, he was doing very well in his training, and the official reports of inexplicable after-hours injuries had nearly dried up completely. To maintain this healthy balance, they extended his stay in the apartment on the condition that he continued to spend his downtime from missions at the academy assistant-teaching. Now sixteen, Iruka had a taste for adventure, and getting out of the village to flex his abilities held a lot of appeal. On top of that, he had the opportunity to witness other shinobi as they plied their craft – and of the many that he experienced missions with, not many chunin possessed the level of intensity and self-confidence that he saw when he teamed up with Mizuki.

Mizuki had been taking more solo missions, since his constant complaints about his regular team had finally gotten his point across. He rarely went with them anymore; but he had made it clear that partnering with Iruka was fine. He loved it when their mission was brutal and risky; his ego hit a high-water mark when he was showing off in front of those big brown eyes. Just getting outside the village boundaries with his partner of choice was a secret thrill; deep inside, he was the only one who knew of his plan to steal away, to leave for a mission like this and never have to return. He still made some effort at staying in line and went through the motions of applying to move up in rank; but he was growing less and less enamored with the idea of landing his spot among the elite jounin 'haves' and more enthused about being a 'have-not'. It was the jumping-off point for taking his partner and leaving the style-cramping Konoha lifestyle behind.

As invigorating as it was to get out and away, it still irritated him to no end when the mission itself was somewhat less exciting.

"This would be unbearably boring with any other teammate but you," Mizuki purred, pulling the last cord down to finish setting up the tent.

"It's been interesting, at least I thought so," Iruka said, leaning down to blow on the start of their campfire until the sparks grew in to a small flame. "And we did well! We got everything and in just half the time they projected. They'll be surprised when we're already there to turn in our reports tomorrow."

"Eh. I hate it. Infiltration work is too nit-picky and tedious. I say, grab one of them by the throat and shake until he talks. Now that's an efficient way to gather intelligence." He sat next to Iruka and slipped his arms around him, earning him a mildly annoyed look for interfering with his ability to move. If anything, Mizuki gripped him tighter.

"You're not thinking of playing hard-to-get, are you?" the older shinobi growled in his ear. "Because hard is what you're going to get. We should get started now."

Iruka squirmed, shaking his head. Mizuki was always on him lately, trying to start something hot and heavy. Behind closed doors it was all well and good; but out in the field it just wasn't prudent. Over a relatively short period of time, their relations had quickly morphed into something extremely personal and darkly private. Iruka wanted very much for it to be their secret; but as far as he could tell, Mizuki seemed to wish that they could perform the act in public. "Come on, knock it off, won't you? At least wait until it gets completely dark."

"I don't want to wait too long. Every day, baby, we need to connect every day we can, because we don't always get the chance."

"What was that?" Iruka pushed away carefully, cocking his head to one side. "I heard something."

Mizuki suspected it was just an excuse and gave him a distrusting look, but then he detected movement as well. It was near the path they had deserted for their campsite, wisely hidden by setting up deeper in the thick screen of the overgrown stand of young trees. Iruka killed the fledgling fire even though it was masked from view and they crouched down, creeping under cover to check the pathway unseen.

Two of the men who used to be in Mizuki's first training group were going by; one had been a fellow student, the other a leader. One was full jounin, the other at high chunin level now. His large hands itched to challenge them.

"Ah. False alarm. They're Leaf," Iruka whispered as he backed down, relieved that they weren't a threat, and to see that they were continuing on their way. Neither of them offered to reveal themselves to their passing comrades, coincidentally here in the same space so far from home.

They watched the men move by, shouldering heavy packs and moving at a brisk pace.

"Imbeciles. They never even sensed us," Mizuki growled irritably in Iruka's ear from behind, slipping rough hands around his waist and groping abruptly.

"Damn it," Iruka hissed, grabbing the large wrists. "They're still too close. Knock it off!"

Muzuki was already annoyed at seeing the jounin, and this disobedience touched off the towering chunin's dark temper. He stopped his pawing bid for attention and instead brought both hands up to clench fiercely around Iruka's neck, spinning to throw him off balance and down to the ground without letting go.

Iruka managed to remain silent, the lungful of breath knocked out of him was the only hint of sound as he ripped at his assailant's wrists, confused as always when things became intense and physical with between them. His body responded in arousal yet again, to his shame.

"Gods, you're a perverted, filthy animal," Mizuki panted in a husky, low snarl, leveraging down with his larger frame to press against the struggling boy and grind into the hardening groin with his own. "You piss me off on purpose just to force me give it to you hard. I hate it when you play me like this. If you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask. I can't believe how you love this so damn much."

"I can't help it," Iruka breathed harshly, relishing the painful grip constricting his throat in spite of himself.

"I know that. I know," Mizuki said, easing back from anger, pleased at the confession of desire he'd extracted with his dominant, sadistic manipulations. These things went much better when he kept his head and calculated his moves; the danger of going too far was always there, part of the thrill, but not a risk to be taken lightly. "I'll never tell your secret, Ru-kun, and I'm not afraid to give you what you need. You know I'll do anything you want and I won't breathe a word of it. It's just for us to know. We're the only ones here now. This is no one else's business."

They ended up in the tent moments later; the brutal relations went on until darkness had fallen completely and blood began to splatter the tent wall. Mizuki was working up to his third climax, but still, his partner had not come.

"It's not enough? Does it need to hurt more, Ru-kun?" growled Mizuki deep in his throat as he hammered in to his partner. "Talk to me!"

"M-more," Iruka gasped, at once physically thrilled and shamefully terrified, still new to the twisted things his body seemed to require most of the time before he could find release. Blood was getting in his eyes from a cut that had opened up on his brow, the result of a right cross thrown at some point when he bitten back in reflex. "It has to be more."

"Filthier, sicker, more pain…?" Just the sound of Iruka's strained voice, forced to vocalized things he was ashamed to admit, was pushing Mizuki near the edge again. He wanted them to start coming together, they had fallen into a pattern where it took fisting or pure abuse to get Iruka off. Mizuki supposed he was being too romantic, but he wanted them to come at the same time at the end. They should only come locked together in deep, physical connection.

"Pain." Almost to low to hear, but it was the right response.

"And more," Mizuki grinned, locking his fingers around the neck that was so vulnerably arched back, the tanned body straining in the attempt to further expose delicate tissue to a more vigorous assault. Bloody trails had smeared under his pawing hands everywhere, and illuminating these erotic visuals was so much more important than the caution he should have used instead, leaving the lantern turned up to its brightest setting, unmindful of the disturbing silhouettes it was casting on the khaki walls. He dug in his fingertips and nails to add stinging highlights to the painful grip he applied, cutting off the airway and getting an immediate reward from the tightening muscle around his rock-hard cock.

In the moment of losing consciousness from lack of air, Iruka's orgasm filled his entire existence and seemed to last until he was nearly turned inside out.

Watching his partner's face as it succumbed to lack of oxygen, thrown back helplessly with each impact as his body was impaled with brute force, drove Mizuki into throes beyond any he had fantasized about before. It left him collapsed and spent, sliding on the slick hot coating of sweat, ejaculate and blood that had built up between their bellies, and he had to catch his own breath before he could begin working on Iruka to restore his respiration.

A hard double-handed slam to the solar plexus did the trick, the resulting compression and rebounding expansion of the lungs moving air out and in and restarting the natural reflexes for breathing. A dazed state of afterglow enveloped the younger man as oxygen hauled him back up into consciousness; in the torrent of mixed emotions that followed their activities, the sense of relief that it was over always dominated the lot. Mizuki snapped off the lantern without making the effort of a dismount and both of them fell into sleep still dirty and entwined together with an iron grip.

They had not enjoyed as much privacy as they had thought. Once the activity in the tent stopped with both souls within still alive, and the detectable amount of blood spilled was clearly not life-threatening, the shinobi 'imbeciles' who had seemingly passed them without notice moved away to discuss what they had observed.

"I don't like either one of them," Asuma sneered. "And I don't have any truck with them. My duties aren't even in the village anymore. Butt out, so they're into dirty shit. So what? Let it go."

"Touji's an adult, and he's been hanging over Iruka since he was a little kid, Asuma. He shouldn't be using him, hurting him like that. He's too young and inexperienced to be asking for that kind of action. What if it's a jutsu he's putting on him?" Hayate frowned, still uncomfortable and worried by what he had witnessed. "Mizuki has a reputation for violence and intimidation."

"You heard Umino asking for it – he's willing, he's pretty much of age, and he's nobody. From what I heard, he's studying to be a damned schoolteacher. So who the hell cares? They probably all have repressed urges, jacking off under their desks. I hate that smug attitude you all have. He's lucky he found somebody that'll do him before he goes full-time at the academy and can't get a date with his own hand. I wouldn't fuck the little wimp with a stick if he paid me."

"You shouldn't be so obvious, Asuma. Your dad cares about him because he cares about all the people in the village, and he just gave him a little extra attention because he lost his family and had such a hard time. It isn't personal. You don't have to be so jealous." Hayate had been teaching for nearly a year now, long enough that he was used to letting the put-downs about the job just roll right off his back; but this tirade of Asuma's was more than just prejudice against a profession.

"Shut up! I don't know where you even came up with that idea. Quit yapping about things you know nothing about."

"Well, then, you won't mind if I tell your father about this."

"About their sick little game? What the hell's wrong with you? You'd seriously bother a Hokage with gossip about smut between two chunin rejects?"

"Maybe."

"Find somebody else to escort you back with that scroll when we're done, then. I have to get back to my station with the Guard anyway. You want to stir things up in Konoha, then do it. I couldn't possibly care less. I don't know if I'm ever coming back to that stupid village again anyway."

"Asuma, come on. Don't be that way. We've done a fair share of tent-surfing in our day. It's usually pretty hot stuff. But this wasn't, it was different, I didn't feel like a voyeur. It felt sick, like witnessing a crime."

"I just thought it was a waste. Those two couldn't even arouse my attention. I think working at the Academy has softened your brain. You should drop it, Hayate, but I know you probably won't. So do whatever you want, just don't bother me with it. Crap, here I was hoping for a nice diversion and all I get is irritation."

Hayate dropped it to keep things civil for the sake of the retrieval mission they were on, but he was not convinced to let it go completely. He and Iruka were close in age, but miles apart in maturity, and the thought that the kid was in over his head refused to go away.

The careful, tentative inquiry Hayate made afterward was addressed to someone well below the Hokage. Since he was one of the rare friendly acquaintances of the anti-social Ebisu-sensei, it seemed like the right source to go to - after all, the man was a specialist tutor and learning director for the Academy. He was surprised at the negativity that his gentle overture received, just by mentioning Iruka's name. It seemed that Ebisu disliked Iruka nearly as much as Asuma, making a snide comment about less-able ninjas watering down the quality of the education offered at the pre-genin level. Hayate reconsidered and said nothing of the incident, deciding that his intervention would likely do more harm than good.

And Asuma had made a good point later, after his irritation had lessened. If Iruka was doing what he pleased, Hayate would look like a nosy old woman for pointing it out. And on the other hand, if the dark-eyed chunin was revealed to be incapable of managing his own bedroom activities, he might as well pack his bags and go volunteer as farm labor. There would be no respect for him from anyone after that came to light.

In the end, Hayate decided to mind his own business. Watching Iruka smiling, shouting instructions and dashing energetically with the students through the trees to teach chakra-assisted climbing later that same week, it didn't seem like he was any the worse for his extra-curricular activities. There was no visual evidence that anything had happened to him, so he had obviously been healed afterward. He was a shinobi after all, and surely he could take care of himself.

Although he had filed it in the back of his mind under 'things you'd really rather not know about seemingly normal guys,' it always popped into his head when he saw the brunette. And it still rankled him every time he saw Touji.

O0o0o0o0o0o

They once again passed over Mizuki when jounin selections were made. He still had issues with reliability. Reports from the veterans they sent him out with still made troubling reference to his lack of ability to distinguish between situations that required deadly force and those that did not – deadly force was his overwhelming answer to almost every situation. He had an innate bloodlust that, in spite of ongoing training to bring it into line, continued to get the best of him in the field. And now, his very latest mission had gone sour, and not only had one of his old teammates wound up dead, the body had been left behind. A retrieval team had gone back for the lost soul, and Mizuki had been placed on hiatus from missions to allow him to deal with the loss – while the review panel failed to determine whether he had undue accountability in the death.

His last application actually came back 'denied' with a footnote advising him to consider where his talents might be better suited. It suggested that a career counseling session with Moreno Ibiki about the interrogations field might be in order. That just about put Mizuki over the top; working under a guy whose specialty included constantly looking for signs of treason or disloyalty was completely out of the question.

Finally convinced that they were closing the door on his promotion for good, he refocused. It took considerable swallowing of his pride, but he did it - he applied to assist at the academy. If he wasn't to make jounin, he already knew what his next real move would be. But he had to be realistic. As much as he would have loved to drop the whole charade and walk away immediately, there was much more to do if he was to make sure that he didn't make that move alone. He needed to cement his partnership with Iruka even further. What better way to direct someone else's thinking than to be together all day and all night, adding the bonding element of teaching together side-by-side?

That old pervert Masato would be easier to keep an eye on. Iruka's relationships with the other academy staff members could be monitored closely as well. It would have been annoying to have to divert so much of his time and effort from his goals in life into controlling Iruka, had those two things not become nearly one and the same. The freedom to do whatever he pleased only took shape in the plural form. Without a partner, Mizuki would be forced to interact with others eventually to deal with his irresistible urges. That would not play out well for him at all as a man determined to desert a village so temptingly ripe with unwitting victims.

Iruka was completely surprised but pleased to hear that Mizuki was thinking of becoming a sensei. He was doing very well at it himself, and once he had enough time under his belt as a chunin, he would be able to take the test to become a full-fledged teacher. He had been warned by Masato-sensei that they would want him to have substantial mission experience first so he had gone all-out taking as many different assignments as he could, packing in at an average year's worth in just nine month's time. The days flew by and the missions were a kick in the pants.

Only a small percentage of his assignments teamed him with Mizuki now. Mission work was varied and challenging. He escorted, infiltrated, and battled through B ranks, working up now to an A rank here and there. Some B's went A fast; for the mission he thought of as his personal best, he'd even fought and won single-handedly against an unexpected two-man team of jounin-level opponents to successfully retrieve a kidnapped royal seamstress. The feedback on that mission report boosted his confidence more than he would have thought possible.

He was assigned with a number of different teammates, people who wouldn't have spit on him if he were in flames before. But now, as equals and bound as mission partners by the shinobi code, he worked with them easily enough. Their professionalism called for them to reserve judgment until seeing him in action, and they seemed to find him reasonably capable and even likable, although a few of them only acknowledged him grudgingly even after he'd more than proved himself.

It gave him pause more than once, reflecting on the path he was taking. Mission work was a far better fit than he would have suspected. He thought the violence would be more disturbing but in reality, it was thrilling to be on the edge of life itself, surviving by taking the lives of others for a just cause. A few of the A-ranks he went on involved multiple deaths, and he produced his share of the carnage, participating without flinching afterward when they burned the bodies and personal effects of the defeated rogue nins. He felt accomplished, although he took no joy in the killing itself, and sensed that his experience was pretty much the same as the other shinobi he was teamed with. So why was he so different, so NOT to be a jounin, when the rest all seemed to be destined for that station in life? Mizuki's declarations about the corrupt nature of the promotions seemed to ring true after all. Nothing in his performance was lacking when he was called upon to do his part. While he made a conscious effort to look on the bright side, to concentrate on the natural affinity he had for teaching, it still sewed the seed of doubt that somehow he had been tripped up purposely somewhere along the way.

Through the missions he made a few casual friends outside the Academy, something he had no clue how to deal with. Life was opening up for him, and it seemed that every new day brought a wider, brighter horizon.

Mizuki put up a supportive, happy face, while bitterly noting the way that this new, wider world was leaching away some of the hard-won dependency and bringing greater risk to that singularity of affection his Iruka had for him.

Intimacy was a regular occurrence, it the sense of frequency; but with each successive interaction, regularity in the sense of normalcy slipped yet another notch. As Iruka's guard dropped, his malformed responses strengthened, and Mizuki molded their desires together carefully in the form of his strongest addictions. He taught Iruka to embrace the type of relations that fired his loins; guilt and shame at their perverted activities cause the younger man to blame himself for the unhealthy direction their sex life had taken, and to breath not a word of it to anyone.

Iruka's indebtedness to his partner for keeping that dirty little secret spilled out into their relationship as a whole. The more unique and interdependent their give-and take became, the less likely it was that Iruka would even begin to consider finding someone else or leaving for freedom's sake. Mizuki had not harbored desire for any other outcome except total togetherness until death. He sensed from the beginning that Iruka was not so irrevocably committed, but time had been slowly making up for that gap.

Bruises and soreness sometimes lingered or escaped the healing afterward, and with his close associates growing in numbers, someone might start counseling Iruka if they grew concerned. Mizuki, as always, banked heavily on Iruka's flat-out unwillingness to share his dark secrets with others. He really couldn't afford to have that change; to have those associates develop into true pals and confidants.

Over time, the mission-experience requirements had been met, and Iruka's adventures were winding down in favor of more time in the classroom. Time in the village provided for more opportunities for togetherness and intimacy, but unfortunately, it also meant time among the other instructors the morning after, and as a result, more chance that someone would detect something amiss in Umino's personal life worth commenting on.

As with everything else in their relationship, Mizuki took it as a challenge and rose to it in fine style. The older shinobi responded to this latest threat by snuggling into his mate's psyche even further just by easing off on his indulgences.

Moving away from the overt acts that Iruka knew were abusive and unhealthy was a relief; it had been eroding his self-esteem further every time he lost control and asked for such shameful treatment. His only consolation was that Mizuki patiently indulged him and never hesitated, never seemed to be shocked or disgusted. It seemed unimaginable that anyone else would have been half as understanding, trustworthy and supportive. Iruka tried to please him as well, and forced himself to ignore the occasional tension that filled him when Mizuki made certain deep noises in his throat. It came out of nowhere, the panicked feeling of wanting to fight loose and flee, sometimes right in the middle of the most intimate, exposed positions and activity. It made it confusing and difficult; he was the one that had the perverse desires; if anyone, Mizuki should have been the one to be leery.

Things between them followed a natural progression; they had been together, living for one another, for so long that continuing to grow together was the expected course. They spent many of their off hours just hanging out and they had their fights; Mizuki was touched off by the oddest things, and Iruka had his own very impressive temper tantrums, rare but solar in their intensity. But neither of them had any interest in dragging out disagreements, and overall, they got along. And now they were going to be able to share their work lives, as well.

xxxx

Mizuki punched Iruka square in the right shoulder blade in friendly aggression, rocking him forward with the force of the blow. The smaller nin had to slap a hand on top of the books and papers he had balanced in the other arm to keep the momentum from taking them out of his grasp.

"Have a good one," Mizuki guffawed as he passed by, amusing himself with his accidentally-on-purpose overly hard hit.

"Buzzard," Iruka smiled. He was used to rough treatment and disregarded that element of their exchange; the playful attention still pleased him and reminded him of his luck to have such camaraderie.

Mizuki winked and kept going, heading out to his classroom, brushing past Hayate with an obligatory glare of recognition as the smaller man continued in the door to the staff room.

Hayate and Iruka nodded and smiled in silent hellos.

"Won't be much longer before the exams. You nervous?"

"A little. But I feel good about it. I've studied about as much as I can. I've put in the paperwork early in case there's something I'm missing to qualify for it. Masato-sensei gave me the pre-test already. I guess there's not much else I can do but wait."

"You haven't heard? I'm glad I caught you, then. The aides that are taking the test are getting together next Wednesday after school for an informal review. I'm going to be there as the instructor; I got the same kind of help when I was preparing for my exam, so now it's my turn to return the favor. You should come, Iruka. There are always a lot of questions, and things get covered that you might not have realized would be on the exam. It won't be a drag, either – everyone contributes food and drinks for a little get-together afterward so when the serious study is over it tends to be a nice little mixer for the candidates. Of course, the big blowout party comes after the testing, when you don't need to keep your wits about you so much."

Iruka was gung-ho right up until the party part. He was a little uncomfortable with the idea, and he was quite sure Mizuki would hate it.

"Uh…well, I'm not sure if Mizuki…"

"Hold on now, no offense, but this is restricted to just those who are qualified for the next exam. Mizuki doesn't have enough time under his belt assisting in the classroom to take it this time."

"Oh." Iruka paused, considering. He could find a reason to slip away as soon as the partying started; and it was important to show that he was a team player with this group. The teaching staff had a camaraderie all its own, different but just as important as the trust and loyalty among shinobi while on missions. While Mizuki would probably not want him to go, he felt that he could not afford to be rude and turn down this invitation.

"Thank you, Hayate-senpai. I'm honored that you thought to include me."

Hayate grinned and placed a warm hand on Iruka's shoulder. "I'm really glad that you're coming. Everyone really enjoys your company, Iruka, it should be very beneficial and we're going to have a great time."

The wince was barely detectable when he applied friendly pressure to the spot he'd seen Mizuki punch moments earlier. If he hadn't been looking for it he wouldn't have noticed; but there it was, and it told him just how hard that blow had been. In spite of his smile, his brow knit at the thought; Iruka's expression when Mizuki hit him that hard was all wrong. He should have turned around and decked him. Instead, he had looked like the guy had just done him a favor.

He kept his hand there and rubbed in a casual, supportive gesture, and watched the brown eyes flash guiltily to the doorway. Worried that they would be seen touching, he suspected.

Iruka's expressive eyes were something he had to actively shield all his life to hide his thoughts and emotions. In mission mode he did it automatically, put on his game face and never let it break. He had a bit of a game face he cautiously wore in public as well; but he sometimes dropped his guard around a handful of people he liked now, and Hayate was one of them. It happened unexpectedly, and he wasn't even sure why he was willing to take this new risk.

Deep inside, the unfamiliar urge to connect with people in a normal manner was pushing out without waiting to be recognized intellectually. It drove him to be more honest, to open up without assuming that bad things would happen, to learn the give-and-take between people who allowed one another in their confidence.

It was nothing like the requirement for him to drop all defenses that Mizuki demanded. When he was alone and in private with his partner, he was supposed to be open, honest and unguarded, and it was not a request. It was no easy task, no matter how long he had complied up until now; it still required the complete short-circuit of all of his natural instincts for self-preservation.

It was another factor in that nervous glance at the door.

Hayate waited a few more seconds before breaking contact. Iruka had not flinched again or moved away. He wondered if that represented a little defiance, an unwillingness to be cowed.

"I should get going. I need to set up the targets for both classes today," Iruka said.

"Yeah, I should catch up with my aide before the kids get in."

They both set out into the crisp morning air to start their tasks for the day.

When that Wednesday rolled around, Iruka brought his contribution of food to work with him in the morning and placed it in Hayate's storage cabinet for safekeeping. After spending the night taking the brunt of Mizuki's displeasure at being excluded from the study session, it would just be asking for trouble if he had to leave to go by home to pick it up later. Somehow, he suspected that he might not make it to the event if he ended up alone with Mizuki today.

He would sure be glad when the exam was over. It was an irritant to the larger shinobi, and anything that irritated Mizuki worked unfavorably for Iruka. The dip in income over the next year, when Iruka would be expected to take far fewer missions, was a source of grumbling as well. But, as Iruka had pointed out, when Mizuki became an instructor, he would be similarly restricted, so it was actually a good thing that their appointments would be staggered instead of both of them living on reduced income at once.

Mizuki didn't act angry at lunchtime; instead, he sat closer than usual to the wary brunette and placed an arm around him in thinly disguised possessive threat to the others. Iruka grew angry but suppressed it, merely leaving the lunch area early to monitor the kids to conceal his annoyance. They were supposed to be staying subtle about their relationship; Mizuki's move was about as subtle as a brick.

Hayate observed them without giving away his interest. Everything he saw concerning the two of them confirmed his suspicions from spying on their relations back when he and Asuma came upon them out in the field. Iruka had been Mizuki's manipulative since he was quite young; he had been raised into the relationship by the older, cagier nin, and he while he was clearly going along willingly, a part of him still resisted, as if he still recognized on some level that this was not in line with his natural desires.

And Hayate, like most of the others, just flat-out did not like or trust Mizuki.

Classes were dismissed, the kids were gone, and the aides were filing noisily into the corridor, locking up rooms, bidding the sensei they assisted goodnight, and heading off to gather their contributions to the evening's festivities.

Iruka was waiting, starting to wonder exactly how he was going to shake off Mizuki, who dogged his shoulder silently. Hayate stepped up to give things a little push in the right direction.

"Help me get a few things from my classroom, all right? We're set up for the multi-purpose room, but I need to take the overhead and some worksheets. We'll need the cart." Hayate looked up at Mizuki with a pleasant smile. "You get out of this one, but before you know it, it'll be your turn. It's important to do this review close to the exam date. Well, we need to get to it. See you tomorrow."

He hooked Iruka's elbow and took him into his classroom to gather the projector and supplies on the cart, ignoring the death-glare that his abrupt dismissal earned him. It had the desired effect, though. The white-haired thug left abruptly as the door fell shut in his face.

He fully understood instantly why the food had been stored there when Iruka took his contributions to the feeding frenzy out of the cabinet and placed them on the cart.

Hayate had to ask himself again why this was any of his business. Once again, he really couldn't come up with an answer. Well, at least, not one that wasn't a bit self-incriminating. His main reason was that he really liked Iruka. When they spend what little time they had together alone and uninterrupted by certain parties, they seemed to connect on a very comfortable, personal level.

It gave him more than a few second thoughts about how things would be if Mizuki wasn't in the picture. Thoughts drifted into his head when he saw the cheerful scarred face, revolving around how much better off the brunette would be with someone less abusive and dominant. It wasnt that he was physically attracted to his colleague; the connection was more in the vein of friendship, a friendship that the platinum-haired shinobi blatantly conspired to make virtually impossible.

Iruka's partner was suspected of one of the highest crimes of distrust and treason. Hayate had been on the panel that reluctantly accepted him into the aide program in spite of the recent, unproven allegation that he had snuffed a fellow shinobi in the field rather than make the effort to assist him in getting back to the village when he was injured during a mission. It was not a life and death situation; it was merely a matter of convenience and cold-blooded disregard for a shinobi's life.

As far as Hayate could tell, the preponderance of the evidence pointed to Mizuki's responsibility for the vile act. In fact, the sole argument in his defense was the resistance of the panel to believe that a native shinobi would do something so heinous without provocation.

Hayate was convinced of his guilt beyond a doubt, reasonable or otherwise. He had cast one of the two dissenting votes that hoped to keep the troublesome giant away from the kids, and there was no doubt that he did worry for Iruka sometimes. Privately, even Asuma's attitude had changed a bit after learning of the accusation against Mizuki. The man he was accused of killing so easily during their mission was a respectably strong and able shinobi. It suggested that the deviousness and ability to overwhelm Umino might not be as much of a reflection on the younger man's poorer abilities as he had thought.

It wasn't like Iruka was the only ninja in Konoha history who had been subjected to unnatural events in his formative years that had altered the course of his personal development. Some of the greatest heroes and some of the most dangerous enemies had been reared right here under less than ideal circumstances. The idea of intervention and closer scrutiny of both Touji and his younger partner came up before the panel but had been tabled for the time being. Sarutobi sided firmly with the idea that Iruka was not to be found guilty or suspect by association, pointing out that his track record since enlisting with the academy staff was spotless.

Iruka had been approved for the exam in the end, unaware that he and Mizuki had been at risk of being washed out of the program completely.

The brainstorming and studying finally ended when the question and answer session petered out, and breaking out the food and drink brought out a torrent of socializing. Iruka intended to leave right away, but got caught up in a side discussion about managing the student population during emergency conditions, a subject that caught his interest right away. He had misgivings about the way things had been handled during the Kyuubi attack, and he had strong opinions that he felt compelled to share.

A drink was shoved in his underage hands as his conversation went back and forth, and before long he was seated among the others comfortably as the subjects changed to everything else under the sun. Laughing and talking, the time slipped away unnoticed, and before he realized it was growing late, the partygoers were yawning and stretching and making comments about getting up the next morning.

He helped with the clean-up, as much to postpone the inevitable as anything else. Yumi stayed to help as well; Hayate waited patiently to lock up when they were done. When the three of them walked out, two men stood in stolid silence in the pool of light from the streetlamp, arms folded and starting hard.

"Yumi-chan," the dark-haired jounin called in a low voice, sounding none too pleased. The kunoichi blushed in embarrassment and bid the other two goodbye.

"Over here," Mizuki called to Iruka, slightly louder. He and the jounin exchanged looks and stepped forward to take possession of their partners.

"You didn't have to wait for me," Iruka offered, a bit mortified.

"I just thought it would be better this way," Mizuki said mildly. "You don't want any unpleasantness just before your exam."

Iruka gave him a questioning look.

"Nikaido-san seems to think you're a rival for Kumichi-chan's affections," Mizuki said, tipping his head in the direction of the unhappy jounin.

Iruka blanched. "There's nothing going on. Yumi's a friend, that's all."

"Oh, I told him. But I thought I'd stay just in case; she did stay late with you after the others left, and that didn't look very good. He's been known to cause trouble. I figured an extra level-headed witness might balance things out."

"Whoa. Well," Iruka berated himself for the resentment he'd felt at seeing Mizuki waiting for him and making him feel watched and controlled. He had just been looking out for him. "I've heard that he can be a real hothead. I hope you convinced him."

Mizuki pulled Iruka into a tight hold and planted a very long, demonstrative kiss on his lips.

"If I didn't, that should," Mizuki murmured, lowering a big paw to squeeze his ass. "Or this."

"Mmph!" Iruka pulled away, trying not to make a scene. "Enough! Not here!"

Mizuki grinned; looking back over Iruka's shoulder, he saw that Yumi had paused in demanding to know why she was being escorted to stare at them, and her chastised would-be paramour was staring as well. _Direct hit, _Mizuki thought. Yumi did like Iruka, he was absolutely certain of it. She didn't like Nikaido much; he knew that, too, although the jounin didn't seem to, refusing to give up on the pretty, curvaceous kunoichi. Now that the predatory female had seen a proper demonstration, and was educated as to the fact that Iruka would not be hers, now or ever, all was well. The annoyance of waiting for the little study party to break up had been well worth it. "Come on, I think I just saved you some trouble; let's go and you can show me a little gratitude, hmm?"

Iruka elbowed the taller nin in the ribs playfully and they took off, scarcely noticing that Hayate had taken his time locking up to watch their little interactions and shake his head in concern.

_tbc_


	11. Chapter 11

_Another chapter up, finally! _

**Chapter 11**

After a year of taking chunin-level missions, on top of many more days spent assisting at the Academy, studying and preparing diligently, Iruka was now quite confident that he was qualified and ready to take the last step to apply for the official title of 'sensei' – the examination.

Mizuki, with only three months of tolerating the teaching aide position, was not yet qualified to take the test. He very much preferred that the two of them take it together.

He knew better than to ask Iruka to wait.

He'd have to come up with something better.

It was actually a fairly simple solution that he settled on when the right situation presented itself at the last minute. Iruka and a chunin teammate were to go on a two-day mission just a few days prior to the exam; it should have returned them to Konoha with a day or two to spare for last-minute studies.

Mizuki used his superior stalking skills to follow them. He henged, tricking them, making it easy to capture the two nin just outside of home territory.

It wasn't lost on him just how much the other chunin liked his Iruka. Yumi was always trying to get him to go with her for a meal or drinks after the school day. She was a significant annoyance. He was well pleased that she was the partner Iruka had drawn for this particular mission. For his purposes, it was perfect.

His henge as one of the village's most popular and respected jounin lured them close, and he actually kept that form throughout the capture when their eyes were uncovered, playing the part of a two-faced traitor to the hilt. He strung them both up with unbreakable restraints, hooded their heads and placed a concealment around them. His excitement knew no bounds. Not only would he have his revenge on the kunoichi, he would have inexcusable fun with Iruka without his ever knowing his assailant's true identity. He could illustrate to Iruka – at least, while conscious – the difference between the sweet, considerate love his partner gave him – and what the rest of the world might give him instead if he wandered.

It was a full five days of the sick shinobi's darkest dreams come true. By the time the exam was a day past, far too late for any make-up test, he had done all that he had desired to do with his captives. If not for the silence jutsu, their screams would have cleared the area of wildlife for a mile at least. He had never really had the opportunity to flex his fantasies this fully into reality. The aftermath of each session was almost shocking when he stared at it, imprinting in his memory the images he would likely never have an opportunity to produce again.

For a fleeting moment during the capture, while pushing the very brink of his restraint, his thoughts had turned to what he would do if Iruka left him for this woman. At that point he nearly lost all control; the evidence of that outburst stood out among the other injuries in its severity and extreme cruelty. Once the momentum of his anger began to wane he managed to get a grip on his imagination, firmly pushing that provoking scenario aside for later consideration; that touch of sanity had been the only thing that had saved Iruka's life.

Yumi had no such reprieve. Her only role in Mizuki's life was that of rival.

It was only because he was reaching the end of his ability to maintain all the jutsu that he finally called an end to the festivities. At that point, she had been dead for about a day already, and there was more than just a trace of that particular odor beginning to form. It would work to his advantage. Once he had removed all possible evidence of himself from the scene, and of the scene from himself, he wanted Iruka found and attended to. He made sure that the young man's injuries would not end his life if treated soon enough.

The scene was a work of horrific art, even if he did say so himself. It was magnificent. While he - in general - objected to anyone seeing his love's naked body, in the manner it was presented here, he severely doubted that anyone, himself excepted of course, would have inappropriate thoughts now.

On one level, he did regret having to deal with Iruka so harshly. But the end justified the means. And it might serve to appease his own more violent, long-repressed impulses, and allow him to be more kindly and gentle to his partner for some time to come. It was a big win/win as far as he was concerned.

With a last look to fully cement this vision in his head, he released the concealment and teleported as far away as his chakra strength would allow, once, then twice, then all the way back into the academy. There, his clone was still busily filing in the student drop-files , the drone-like task he had been assigned to when the week started. It seemed that the other sensei were not nearly so drawn to be near him as they were to his little belle-of-the-ball Iruka. It worked to his advantage here in spades.

The idiots may have denied him his jounin status, but it hadn't diminished his remarkably strong jounin-level abilities. To have maintained this clone so flawlessly while henging, teleporting, and engaging in such provoking acts was a feat worthy of the highest ranks. Had the powers that be promoted him as they should have, he would have been using those powers as their loyal servant.

Now look what they reaped for their petty actions. Yumi was no loss at all to Mizuki; but she was a definite loss to Konoha. Iruka, well, he was going to be Mizuki's no matter what. But he would have been spared this downtime from his work. Once again, Konoha's loss.

He release the clone and examined its experiences for the week, The search for the missing team had just become big news around the academy. By the fourth day they were declared officially overdue, and a second team had been sent out in routine pursuit, to trace them by their given directions. It had returned with no results. The exams had already been held anyway. Iruka, dear boy, was clearly out of luck, one way or in many.

They had questioned the clone only once and in passing. No one here was hot to reveal their suspicions that Iruka and Mizuki were more than just comrades. They probably didn't want to believe it, Mizuki had decided. They all liked Iruka so much, tried to buddy up to him, tried to put their filthy hands on him. They didn't like to think that he was already spoken for, getting all that a relationship could give from Mizuki's strong, capable embrace.

He pulled his thoughts back and began to wonder a bit. They hadn't actually given up on looking for the missing team, had they? He wasn't really sure how long Iruka might last, left hanging there defenseless like that. There were beasts of prey and scavengers to consider, although they did have the semi-fresh filet of kunoichi to snack on first. And there was always a chance of enemy nin, although he had been careful to pick a fairly safe spot just beyond the border.

But it worked to his advantage that the kunoichi had that very worried, antsy jounin friend who fancied becoming her boyfriend. She had actually been the lead on the mission, her superior rating and double the mission experience meant that Iruka was along as her second. Said boyfriend-in-waiting was raising a huge stink and rousting out more help to go look. Mizuki bit back on the incriminating urge to suggest a direction to search in. He only knew that they had not managed to search the area he had captured and held them in. He had not detected a search party nearby at any time during his private sessions.

"You aren't going out in the search? Why?" Hayate's voice startled him as he picked up a bundle of practice targets.

He turned and looked down his nose at the much shorter man.

"I'd just be in the way, Gekko-senpai, if the official opinion of my skill level is correct," he said icily.

"You're kidding. What kind of an excuse is that?" Hayake's breath caught as he tried unsuccessfully to fight off a coughing fit.

"Am I supposed to be impressed that you're going to go out looking with that cold, or whatever it is?" Mizuki sneered.

"Forget it. I should have known better than to think you'd make sense."

"No. No, Gekko-senpai, enlighten me. What are you driving at?"

"Okay, then. I'm going to help with the search this afternoon when class lets out. Do you know why? Because I care about Iruka, that's why. Now you tell me why you aren't going to go."

"You care, hm? I have noticed that you do seem to be 'hands on' when you're working with him. That kind of care? That's what motivates you?"

"You aren't answering my question."

"That's right. I'm not. My question is more important. Answer it first."

"More im…you're serious? More important than your closest friend going LIMS?"

Yeah. He's probably just late. It's only been a few days; all kinds of things can delay you out there. They don't declare a team Lost in Mission Status until a week has passed. That's nin 101 stuff; tell me you didn't know that."

"You are unbelievable. The LIMS alert was issued today, by the Sandaime himself."

"So? That just means that I have more faith in him than the rest of you That's why I'm not worried. Does that answer your question?"

"You know what? I hope you're right. I hope it isn't that the Sandaime had a vision." Hayate was running out of breath for talking, and motivation for arguing.

Mizuki straightened and frowned. Visions. He'd forgotten about the old man's crystal ball.

"Wait. Did he have a vision? Did he see something bad happening to Iruka?"

"I don't know, not that they've mentioned. I was just guessing." _Finally_, Hayate thought. Mizuki's smug look had faded. _Finally, he gets it._ Something very possibly had happened to Iruka and Yumi. ANBU were going to be sent now that the team had been officially listed as LIMS. This wasn't some prank or false alarm.

"I have to go." Mizuki calmed himself, reminding himself that if the Sandaime suspected him, he would have been hauled in for questioning already. He would already know that Mizuki could lead them straight to the missing chunin if his crystal ball had revealed him.

It was after another half-day of worrying, with Mizuki now seriously considering offering to join the search teams to push them in the right direction, when the word came back that the lost shinobi had been found. He didn't have to fake his anxiety when he rushed to meet the men returning with their find. ANBU were moving with lightning speed with two rolled bundles of human cargo. Most of the hopeful faces fell at the sign of the worst – the ANBU were scent-cloaking. It usually indicated that they were covering the smell of death.

There would be no need for speed if there were two dead bodies, so the scenario was made to order…but he followed them anyway. He knew the smell they were cloaking was not his Iruka, but it didn't mean he was going to be all right. For the first time, his heart truly began to chill with realization. He may have gone too far this time. For all the times he gloried in his games in the woods, toying with Iruka's life as he took his pleasure – this was the closest he'd come to actually ending it all between them. It was an intolerable thought. He pushed past the orderlies and was shoved back. He resisted, and one of the ANBU moved to block him.

"Stay back. The medic-nin need to do their work."

"I want to know about Iruka. How is he? Is he…is he alive? Tell me! At least tell me if he's alive!"

"He is. Now stay back, before I have to remove you."

On the hospital bed, being hooked up to the tubes and devices needed to begin his treatment, Iruka was pale and still. The pair of ANBU who had taken him down from the restraints spoke quietly to one another, still taken aback at the variety and viciousness of the physical insults that the two Konohan nin had been subjected to. They knew of no group or clan given to the very unique display of vile behavior that had been left for all the world to see; they strongly suspected a truly insane person or persons. Once they conferred with Ibiki, who was now taking evidence at the scene, they didn't think the conclusion could be anything else.

The Third hovered in the room for some time watching over the medical team before leaving to consult with Ibiki. It was known to the torture specialist that their leader had a soft spot for the young Umino. He expected to be held to a very high standard for this investigation.

"I want to be there when you debrief him, Morino," the Sandaime said. "I plan to suppress his memory of this incident afterwards, before it can damage him further while he's in such a vulnerable state. So you need to get all of the information necessary from this one session."

"But with respect, I disagree with that. Just the one interview? He may remember more later. He's shinobi, he'll cope. It will build his character to have survived such an ordeal."

"Nonsense. Unless I hear something in that interview that changes my mind, I have made my decision." The old man turned and swept away, his pipe puffing in determination. "That boy has had enough character-developing adversity. He needs a chance to make it into adulthood without another life-shattering incident."

Excluded from the hubbub, Mizuki could only pester for Iruka's condition and push for visitation rights. By the evening, his involvement in putting Iruka in this situation became distant, and his concern became the reality. By the next day, he was almost convinced himself that he'd had nothing to do with it. His concern and distress over Iruka's condition rang as true in his head as it did to the unwitting medical staff.

They let him in for a short visit the next afternoon. Iruka was semi-conscious. In spite of the healing, and the brief push into consciousness forced by Ibiki for the debriefing, he was in terrible shape. The Third was unable to keep his consciousness level high enough to manipulate his memory yet. He tossed weakly in distressed twilight. Mizuki went to him, holding his hand and kissing it softly. His prize, his pet, was right here in safekeeping. He would not be advancing to instructor for quite some time. By the time the next teaching exam was scheduled, Mizuki would qualify to take it as well. They would advance together.

He took his huge hand and lightly touched the bandaged face. The orderly, who stood by with no intention of leaving, cleared his throat sharply and shook his head when Mizuki looked up. The frowning shinobi took his hand away reluctantly, rankled that they would dictate how and where he could touch his Iruka.

"That's enough for now. Let him rest," the orderly said quietly.

Mizuki ignored him for as long as he could, until he sensed the orderly had reached the end of his patience and was starting to move. He applied a quick, last kiss to Iruka's hand and left with a pointed glare at the attendant.

Ibiki's interview was both revealing and far too little help in the investigation. They had found no fault in Iruka's performance; the team's leader had clearly taken them straight into a trap, misled by the identity of the shinobi asking for their help. Neither of them had been fooled beyond that initial meeting; the behavior of the man who appeared to be Nara Shikaku quickly revealed the deceit in spite of the excellent henge.

The lack of defense wounds supported his story that they had been taken completely by surprise with no chance to fight back; and that the aim of their capture was never made apparent beyond causing pain and mayhem, pure and simple, along with the perversities taken with great abandon on both nin. There had been no interrogation or mention of some action they might take that would stop the assault. Both Iruka and his partner had resigned themselves fully after the third day. It seemed that the perpetrator enjoyed maintaining that level of assault until the day he killed the kunoichi. The enemy had rendered Iruka semi-conscious first; it didn't spare him from witnessing the event entirely. Hearing those final cries and soft, sickening organic noises, he knew without a doubt the moment she had died. It appeared that much had occurred leading up to her final moments, and perhaps even after, but Iruka was in no state to describe the final hours in more detail than the fact that they both knew it was all coming to an end, finally. He had prepared himself for his own final assault and let go of his false hopes for rescue when he felt her life force disappear. He had tried everything in his power, as had she. In spite of his resignation to his fate, when his assailant then turned his full attention to his sole surviving captive, the debasing attacks had jellied his guts in abject fear and grief.

Sandaime was wise in his decision to muffle the memories. They ate at the chunin like piranha while he was outwardly quiet in his hospital bed. When he grew strong enough to struggle against the orderly, the Sandaime returned and applied his age-old powers to relieve the boy of the intensity of those unbearable memories.

"Ki," Iruka said softly. His was a dreamy, strange state of tired numbness. The injuries and painkillers, coupled with the thought-scrambling aftereffects of the memory treatment, had left him temporarily addled. He was slow and thick-witted, responding on the most basic level to those allowed in. He had leaned on Masato-sensei and hummed himself to sleep earlier. Relieved that Iruka was going to be all right, and forewarned of his sluggish thinking, Masato has been more than willing to comfort his protégé and stay until he was able to drift off and rest.

After he left, it was Mizuki's turn to visit.

"Ru-kun. How do you feel?" Mizuki crossed the room, glad that the orderly was no longer there full-time.

"Ki." Iruka held his hands up, and Mizuki hugged him carefully. Iruka let his weight meld into Mizuki's chest and sighed.

"It's okay, Ru. You're okay."

"Home."

"I know. I know. Soon."

"Stay. Please."

Mizuki's smile was as bright as the sun. His Ru, safe and snug, delivered to him begging for his company. He carefully broke off the embrace to pull the orderly's chair over and sat, taking Iruka's hand gently.

"Always, Ru-kun," he purred. "I'll be with you always. Does that make you happy?"

Iruka nodded with his eyes closed and a dull, drugged smile. "Al-ways."

"You've been on enough missions for a while. Maybe we can talk them into letting you stay close to home now."

"Why?" Iruka asked, wobbly sitting up in the bed. His voice slurred softly. "What happened?"

"Just a little mishap, Ru-kun. It's not for me to decide what you're supposed to know."

"Mis-hap. I'm hurt."

"You were, but you're a lot better, and you'll be just fine before you know it."

"It's hard to think. Can't…remember."

"So stop trying. You just need to relax and get well." Mizuki kissed his palm and tickled it gently. Iruka giggled.

"That's my boy. They said you'd be a little dopey still. Is it fun? Being dopey?"

Iruka's lower lip plumped out. "No. No fun."

Mizuki tickled his palm again until he laughed. "But it's not all bad, huh?"

"S-stop!" Iruka laughed nervously, reaching to support himself against the rail. "You make me fall!"

"Okay, I'll stop…but you aren't going to fall. You couldn't if you tried."

"Feels like…feels like falling." Iruka had an unsteady grip on Mizuki's fingers to stop any potential tickling.

"Sorry, Ru-kun. You look scared. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Gonna fall."

"No Ru. I'd help you. I wouldn't let that happen."

"Hold me?"

"Sure." Mizuki gathered him up and reveled in the feeling. Even when Iruka had been freshly orphaned and lost, he hadn't been reduced to this. This was all the result of his doing, and it was exhilarating to reap the rewards. This wouldn't last, of course. But as a memorable moment in time, it was a rare jewel.

So it was a touching scene that the Third walked in on – or might have been, had Iruka been held by just about anyone else in the village. The wise old man knew that Mizuki was a shinobi in a class by himself, a troublesome, insidious class by himself. He was a deadly, efficient, cold-blooded ninja. He still suspected him of being instrumental in tactical decisions directly resulting in the unnecessary loss of fellow nin. Nothing had been proven as far as intent, but the Third was still concerned that this might not be a trustworthy man when the chips were down. To see him growing so close to a young man he felt personally attached to – it gave him a moment to reflect on how every small decision he made had such far-flung effects. Because they had decided to let Mizuki have the benefit of the doubt, he was free to insinuate himself into the life of an innocent. What other ill winds might blow from staying the hand of punishment on this man?

"Touji." The Third entered quietly. He nodded as Mizuki straightened and stepped back. Iruka reached out, as if a toy had been taken away, urging Mizuki to come back.

"Iruka," the old man said. Iruka's head turned and he looked uncertainly at the man's regal robes. "Iruka-kun. I am so glad you are back with us now."

Iruka's arms dropped slightly. He seemed transfixed by the Sandaime's voice now, staring with liquid deep brown eyes.

"You will be fine now, my boy. I intend to watch over you myself until you recover. And after they release you, if you still need a bit of assistance for a few days, I'd like you to stay with me. You've taken some pretty severe damage, and you really shouldn't be alone right off."

Mizuki bit his lip hard to remain silent.

"I don't know your place," Iruka mused aloud, his bandaged head drifting a little to the side, adding to his overall spaced-out look.

"Well yes, you do, sort of. When you were little you used to come in with your father now and again. That was when the Fourth was Hokage, though. It wasn't quite the same. But we were friends then."

"Oh. With Dad." Iruka's gaze cast down, and he suddenly seemed disconnected from the conversation.

The Sandaime moved to the bed, and touched Iruka's forehead to bring him back into the present. "You have always been welcome there. You will always be welcome there. You are a very special person to me, Iruka. I hope you understand that." And he intended, by saying it now, to make sure that Touji Mizuki understood it, as well. That he understood who he would be taking on, if he did wrong by this young man.

"I am?" Iruka looked confused. "How?"

The old man smiled patiently. "Your mind is very foggy right now, son. Very foggy. You'll be much better in a day or two. We can discuss this again then. I really just came to see how you are, and to give you my best." Iruka leaned into the gnarled hand that patted his cheek.

"I'm glad you didn't send me away."

"Send you away? Whenever did you think I would do that?" the aged leader puzzled.

"For being alone and not strong genin."

"I would never send you away. You need to rest and let your mind heal. Don't worry yourself with such thoughts."

"He's confused,' Mizuki grumbled, trying to cover up. "Thinks he's still genin."

The Third kept his expression neutral as he contemplated the last exchange. Iruka thought he had been at risk of being sent away as a genin…and Mizuki was pointedly discrediting the statement. His famous intuition wasn't challenged much by this one. At least he had a good idea now why Iruka's behavior towards him had been so wary and distant when he was younger. No telling what other lies the boy had been fed.

"I will be seeing you soon. By my word, no one will send you away. Rely upon it." He punctuated that reassurance with a warm pat on Iruka's shoulder.

Mizuki hid his clenched fists and smiled benignly as the old man gave him a long look before bidding them both goodbye and leaving the room.

Exhausted, Iruka sank into the pillow. His eyes were closed and he began to slip into sleep.

Mizuki gave him a rough, open-mouthed kiss, sealing his breath off until his eyes flew open wide in discomfort and he struggled to turn away. The hovering giant broke it off and smiled with angry eyes as Iruka faded back into sleep, too tired to react anymore.

At least he'd suppressed the urge to bite Iruka for responding to the Third's little bid for attention. He'd never be able to explain that away to the hospital staff.

Get a grip, he ordered himself. Ruka is yours unless you do something stupid to screw it up. Get a grip. Leave now, before you do something damning.

He managed to take his own good advice this time. When Iruka was released to the Hokage's waiting staff, he held his tongue and pretended gratitude for the help. When he arrived to escort Iruka to his apartment at the end of his week at the Sandaime's, he found that they had already left to deposit the young man back in his quarters. He had to hang back and wait outside the apartment after detecting a non-shinobi presence inside. The Hokage's friendly domestic assistant took forever to finally leave.

Mizuki let himself right in without delay as soon as he was sure Iruka was alone.

"Oh!" Iruka gaped for a moment when the door unlocked, unsealed and flew open in a single action. Mizuki was quite good at that.

"Oh yourself, Ru-Kun." He watched the play of emotions on Iruka's face, satisfied that he was unguarded as he should be in his presence. He saw fear, confusion, embarrassment at the inappropriate reaction, a sort of blank moment which he assumed was the result of hitting a bank of suppressed memory , then a struggle to find an proper reaction between happiness for the company and deep, base pain. It was fitting. If Iruka's subconscious wasn't aware that Mizuki had the capability to do unspeakable things to him, it should be allowed to call itself a subconscious.

The outward response that resulted was a hesitant hug when he approached with arms outstretched; trying to overcome the need for support and general insecurity that he was obviously ashamed of. Not bad, very workable in light of recent events. It indicated that the short stay with the village leader had not served to poison their relationship. Mizuki hugged back warmly. "I've missed you."

"They…" he said hesitantly. "they didn't think I should be having any visitors."

"Of course. I knew it wasn't that you were refusing to see me." Mizuki smiled as his friendly manner was drawing Iruka to him predictably, relaxing him in his arms. "I knew I'd just need to wait until you got home."

"It was so quiet there. Too quiet," Iruka sighed.

"I bet. How long are you off-duty for, Ru? Did they tell you?"

"Four weeks, minimum. They wanted me to stay at the Hokage's the whole time. I just couldn't. I mean, I appreciated the offer. But…one week was more than enough. I just wasn't comfortable there. I wanted to be home."

"I'd have missed you." Mizuki smiled.

"Yeah. Me, too." His gaze grew a little unfocused.

"What is it, Ru?"

"I…they did something to me, Ki. They blocked my memory."

"So I heard."

"Like I'm some weakling. Like I can't take a hit, you know?" he mused, still looking at nothing in the near distance with a frown of concentration.

Mizuki felt inspired. "See? That proves everything I've been telling you."

Iruka shook his head to indicate he didn't understand.

"They don't give you any credit. First they decided to hold you back from advancing through the ranks. Now, they treat you like a second-class shinobi who can't cope with field work. By acting on it, they almost made it come true. You're so strong, Ru. They just don't want to acknowledge it. I can't fathom why."

"It makes my head hurt when I try to remember it now. If I try too hard, it makes it so I can't think at all. I mean, I'm sure they thought they were doing what was best, but…"

"It's all part of the game. Someday. Someday, we'll have the last laugh. You just remember that and you don't need to remember anything else. Just let me take care of everything."

Iruka grew quieter. "Did they tell you anything? It's driving me crazy not knowing how I got all these injuries. How could they think it was better like this? I'm still aware of all of the damage."

"Well, maybe not _all_ of the damage." Mizuki smiled. This was probably information they did not plan on having Iruka hear. "They actually spared you quite a bit as far as that goes. I'd say at least half of your wounds were healed before they even messed with your mind."

"Half. Half?" Iruka sounded stunned. "It must have been a close call."

"Yes. At least you fared better than your teammate."

"Teammate?"

"Oh," Mizuki said, as if he were taken by surprise. "They erased that, too? Well, maybe I shouldn't…"

"Tell me! Ki, please!"

"All right. Yumi-chan was your lead on the mission, Ru. Ring any bells?"

"No. And she..?"

"Didn't make it."

"She died?" His hushed voice was touched with shock.

Mizuki nodded

"Did she die saving me? Is that what they're hiding from me?" Iruka pulled his robe tighter, clearly growing more upset.

"No. Hell, no, she didn't save anybody. Just calm down," Mizuki said in irritation. Iruka really did like that woman. Past tense. He was certainly glad she was out of the picture now. It meant less competition for Iruka's attention, and less competition for the sensei positions. "The ANBU saved you. All she did was lead you into some sort of ambush."

"Do they know who did it? Did they catch them?"

Mizuki shook his head. "Hey, that's about enough of that. Your Sandaime doesn't want you to remember, so maybe you should be a good citizen and stop trying to. Now let's get you back down so you can rest." Satisfied that this had turned out close enough to his liking, he stepped in to the role of supportive partner, ego inflated a hundredfold at the knowledge that he had bested Ibiki's investigation team and the Sandaime's powers of vision and intuition. The yokels were simply no match for his superior intelligence.

"I have to know."

"Hey, I'm sure you'll find out sooner or later. Tell you what. I'll keep my ears open. Anything I hear, I'll let you know. How's that? Whether they want you to hear it or not."

"Yeah. I'd appreciate that." Iruka returned to his former position at rest, but he was anything but relaxed. "I want my memory back."

"Well. Don't know if I can do anything about that. But I'll sniff around and see if I can find out what procedure they used. Find out if there's a way to reverse it."

Iruka nodded, and then caught himself. "I really appreciate it, Ki. Sorry to drag you into this."

"Iruka," Mizuki said reproachfully. "Don't apologize. After all, what are friends for?"

Time healed the physical wounds nicely, and the distractions of life helped to gloss over the feelings of resentment. Mizuki was only able to gather that their Hokage had used his innate powers to suppress his memory, and that such jutsu, while meant to be permanent, had been known to fade over time. He advised Iruka to keep trying to remember, to be patient and diligent in trying to break down the barrier. Eventually he might succeed. When he heard rumors about Iruka and Yumi's failed mission, he passed them all on, sometimes adding in a few details but not too much. If they suspected him, they never let on, and he certainly wasn't going to do something foolish to get himself caught. He made sure that he gave the name of the source to Iruka any time he passed on information. Information that only he was privy to as the perpetrator would have to remain unknown until either Ibiki's investigation results were released, or Iruka's memories returned. Right now, neither of those things seemed to be happening anytime soon.

Back to work at the Academy, Iruka hit the ground running, determined to avoid any further delays in promotion. When Mizuki joined him after work they spent a great deal of time comparing notes on their training. Iruka had the energy born of natural enthusiasm for working with kids; he carried it through into his studies, and used it to suppress his dark thoughts when the circumstances that brought him to this path came to mind.

Mizuki managed to tolerate the boredom of teaching by distracting himself with plans for their future. He had gone ahead and submitted one last bid for jounin status; from what he could tell, he was going to be denied again. They kept referring to the disciplinary actions against him for excessive force and violations of team unity practices. Fair enough. This was their last chance to have him in their stable. If this denial came through, as expected, he would begin laying the groundwork for his exodus from Konoha. The trickiest part of that, by far, was making sure that Iruka came along willingly. He would hate to have to take him by force and try to convert him afterward.

Iruka was beginning to get a little too attached to the kids, sometime putting off times they had planned together in order to put in extra hours at the academy. Although he hadn't taken the exam, they had increased his responsibilities to add to his experience to compensate, and he was given nearly the same parameters for his assistant position as he would have had in his probationary period teaching. The Sandaime kept coming around and encouraging him, and Iruka was just beginning to drop his guard around him. The other teachers had taken to the young man as a colleague right away, and Iruka found a whole different environment as a full-time staff member.

Iruka's positive contributions were a pleasant surprise to the others. They were drawn to him for team projects and collaborations. His sharp, creative mind added immeasurably to the brain-pool; and his excellent basics in the shinobi arts, a natural after being reared in apprentice mode from birth, fully qualified him for all the pre-genin levels. He was considered a sure thing at the next teacher's exam.

Not so Mizuki. He was proficient, and nothing more. He found the children annoying, but not so much so that he couldn't hide his true feelings. It was more a lack of rapport that became evident to the sensei he was assisting. It showed up in his ratings, making them lower than Iruka's. It was only the lack of personnel that kept him in line as a strong candidate for promotion.

"Iruka," Hayate smiled, coughing a few times to clear his throat. After the discovery that he was never going to recover fully from the incident that had caused his respiratory problems, he'd stepped down from missions and spent all his days working at the academy when he was well enough. He'd become friends with the sharp-witted brunette as they spent more time together as near-equals, at least at work. They joked around quite a bit now that Iruka had loosened up around him, and he really appreciated having someone else around that had a slightly off-beat, non-linear sense of humor. "Test time again, buddy. You up for it? Not planning on going LIMS to avoid it this time, are you?"

"I'm ready, wiseass," Iruka said pleasantly.

"What about your boyfriend?" he asked, a little less lightly. His instincts still curdled when Mizuki came up and hovered over Iruka.

"Shh," Iruka frowned. Relationships were fine, but not something to discuss when it was between two staff members. "He's ready, too."

"Things going okay for you two?" Hayate ventured carefully. He'd noticed a few things that disturbed him. Like the way Iruka seemed to have difficulty getting around the day after he had a disagreement with the platinum-haired shinobi. Like the subtle pressure that the larger nin tried to place unnoticed on the younger man to discourage him from interacting with the others, especially Hayate.

"Great. Everything's going really well these days. I hope it lasts, you know, that it's not just the calm before the storm. How about you?"

"What about me?" he coughed roughly and spit, shaking his head. "Nothing ever changes with me now, you know that. We have the cram session coming up in two weeks. It's up to you if you want to come. You don't really need it; I think you could probably teach it. There aren't that many people taking the exam this time."

"We'll see. I'm not sure if Mizuki heard about this yet. We're ready, though." They'd taken extra missions and tightened their belts for the period without missions once they passed. The incentive apartments were all occupied; but they'd already thought ahead, and once they both passed, they figured it would be reasonable for the two of them to move in together in Iruka's to save money. Under those conditions, it shouldn't cause undue tongue-wagging.

When the exams had been graded and the panel had completed their decisions on instructor selections, the newly approved sensei had their names posted in the hall. The candidates had been waiting there the entire time, a tradition of sorts, their anticipation creating a buzz of energy in the narrow passage. They crowded around good-naturedly when Hayate came out to tack up the listing and step back into the doorway to watch. Anxious and excited, Iruka and Mizuki shouldered up and looked for their names with everyone else. Iruka whooped when he spotted his name at the end; with Umino for a moniker, he always searched lists from the bottom up, and he found his name first at the last of the list. Another young man who had passed hammered him on the back in shared exuberance, distracting him for a moment.

When he turned back to celebrate with Mizuki, the dark look he got in return confused him at first. It took a moment for the smile to drop from his face, and for the meaning of that look to sink in. He shook his head and leaned back in to check further on the list himself. Mizuki's name wasn't among the ones listed. When he looked back up, the white-blond hair had disappeared from sight.

He trotted down the hallway, down the stairs and out into the bright daylight, blinking as he looked all around. The hulking form was nowhere to be seen. A drop of icy dread hit his stomach. _Mizuki is going to be very upset._

Hayate had been standing in the hallway and witnessed the exchange. He had a feeling things were not going to go well. He, himself, had cast the deciding vote against confirming Mizuki. They wanted to make him wait until the next exam, to prove that he really wanted this job. Going strictly on score, the massive shinobi had passed. But when it came to the children, they went a little further in their analysis of the instructors, and they could not in good conscience unleash him on the kids unsupervised without a little more proof of his suitability.

The Third had voiced continued reservations. After they adjourned from the selection panel, the Hokage had requested that they meet privately at a later date to discuss their concerns further, just the two of them. Hayate was very curious to see how that meeting was going to go.

He went into the office and watched out the window as Iruka began trudging away from the academy grounds, missing out on the mini-celebration in the hallway to search for his partner.

_He doesn't deserve Iruka and his loyalty,_ Hayate thought darkly. _Iruka doesn't deserve to be subjected to someone like Mizuki. At some point, he has to figure it out. He has to understand it himself first._

As usual, he kept his observations to himself. But now he would have the opportunity to share them with the Third privately. It was a sordid mess, but it was no longer something he could dismiss as 'none of his business' now that the Sandaime had initiated the discussion of it.

He was looking forward to that meeting a great deal.

_tbc_


	12. Chapter 12

_With apologies for the slow update...still hanging in there? Many thanks! I won't waste your time - which I truly appreciate - with my excuses. Here's the next chapter..._

**Chapter 12**

"Ki?" Iruka called out, carefully opening the door. Mizuki's door was unlocked and slightly ajar. Iruka gnawed his lower lip, nervous about the encounter to come. He felt bad for the older shinobi, but he was just a bit afraid of his reaction. Worry for his friend made him set aside his reluctance and forge ahead.

"What the fuck do you want?" Mizuki growled. The voice came from the kitchen. He heard the clink of a heavy bottle, and figured that meant Mizuki planned to get drunk.

"Ki, I'm…I'm sorry." He hesitantly started toward the kitchen.

"Have a seat. I'm getting us something to drink."

"Uh…no, that's all right. You go ahead, though."

More clinking of glassware, and pouring. After a short pause, Mizuki appeared with two glasses.

"I said I'd rather not."

"Tough shit, you're drinking anyway. With all the crap I've been through, you wouldn't make me drink alone, would you?" He shoved the glass from his right hand into Iruka's.

"No, I guess not," he reluctantly agreed. "I just can't believe you didn't pass. Maybe you should talk to them. I mean..."

"Shut up, Ru. Drink, and shut up. I know I passed the exam. It wasn't all that hard. I knew the answers."

"But, then, that's all the more reason to…"

"I didn't fail the test. They denied me the position. That has to be it."

"Why would they do that? Let me look into it; I'll find out."

"And who are you gonna talk to? That old letch Sarutobi? Forget it. Do as you're told. Drink your drink and shut up."

"No!" It was an instinctive reaction. "Stop taking this out on me. I'm just trying to help."

"Big of you. Big of you to come here and help me by being a noisy, unsympathetic dick. All I'm asking you to do is to sit down, be quiet, and join me in a drink so that I can calm down. Too much to ask?"

"Shit. How do you always turn things around on me?"

"Do I? What are you accusing me of, at a time like this? Why did you even come here?"

"You were upset! I came to help. I care, you know!"

"This is not helping, Iruka. Not helping. Not even close."

"I'm sorry. I didn't come here to fight. It's just that it doesn't make sense. It has to be a mistake. It can't hurt to make sure."

Mizuki shook his head in disgust and tossed down his drink in one quick move. He turned to go for a refill, prompting Iruka to reluctantly follow.

"And, look, if it's for real, maybe you can assist me in my class! That'd be great, right? Working together?"

The look on the platinum-haired shinobi would have melted iron. "Assist you? You think that's funny?"

"No! I'm serious. Just for a while! Just until you can re-test."

"I'll show you serious. This is seriously what I think about that." Mizuki took Iruka by the collar and pulled back the hand with the glass in it, demonstrating his violent intent.

"Don't hit me with that! Let go!"

"Well, boss, why don't you fucking make me? Me, assist you? Let's assist you in seeing who comes out on top."

Their raised voices were just detectable from outside. Two small boys playing nearby exchanged guilty smiles and ran up below the window, crouching down to eavesdrop. They giggled at the silly-sounding argument and made faces at each other to match the half-understood dialogue.

The taller, darker-haired boy scratched his shiny mop of hair and waggled a finger at this companion. The next giggle was abruptly cut off when something slammed against the wall so hard the windows above them rattled as if they would break; the noise of the impact startled them out of their mirth.

The smaller boy started to motion for them to leave when the sound of glass breaking inside and a cry of pain froze them in their tracks. The level of chakra around them soared; instinct told them to get far away. They began backing away, and took off at a dead run. The taller boy looked back over his shoulder and gasped as he saw blood splatter the window they had just been beneath.

Safe in Shino's family compound, they crouched outside and regained their breath.

"We gotta tell."

"We weren't supposed to go that far. I'll get grounded."

"Nuh-uh. They'll be too busy cleanin' up the murder to ground us."

"We don't know it was murder."

"It was. We have to tell!"

"Nope."

"Chicken-bug!"

"Big-mouth bowl-head! Keep your mouth shut!"

"No! We have to do what is right!"

"You don't know nothing!"

"Boys, boys," Shibi stepped out of the greenery, removing the large beetle from his wrist and placing it back in the netted enclosure. "I can't think with all this noise. What's the issue here?"

"Nothing!"

"We saw mmmph…"

"Shino! Get your hand off his mouth. He bites, remember? Now, Jun…what is it?"

"Just…" Jun gave a petulant look to Shino, small fists clenched in righteousness. "We saw a murder."

"Oh." Shibi nodded indulgently, fighting a smile. He patiently awaited yet another tall tale of imaginary adventure. "That must have been very alarming for the both of you."

"There was blood and yelling and everything!" Jun's voice raised in excitement.

"Wow. Glad they didn't get either one of you!"

"They didn't see us," Shino glared.

"Ah, well. Hiding is a good strategy. That's a skill you'll be using a lot when you become shinobi. You boys ought to go inside and get something to drink. It's pretty warm today."

Shino stuck his tongue out at Jun for being stupid. His dad didn't care, and it had just risked getting them grounded for nothing. He was glad they didn't really hang out together, and that they didn't drop off Jun for his parents to keep an eye on regularly. For the most part, they got aling like oil and water.

"You're lying about the blood anyway," Shino smirked as he kicked off his sandals.

"I saw it! It went all over the window! You were too busy running like a chicken-bug to look back!"

Shibi followed them in to get them all cool drinks, getting a little curious. "What kind of game were you playing?"

"I dunno. Not anything special." Shino sulked. Then his eyes lit up. "Mom!"

"Why is everyone in my kitchen this time of day?" she asked with mock annoyance.

"The boys looked kind of parched. They've been out running around playing."

"We saw blood!" Jun piped in.

Shibi nodded with a wink at his wife's look. She smiled.

"Oh, my. Lot and lots? Whose blood was it?"

"I didn't see any, he's making it up." Shino stepped in between Jun and his mother, putting a possessive hand on her hip.

"Did, too! It was on the window! And all the yelling got real quiet, I bet you didn't notice that either."

"Shows how much you know! That yelling stopped when the big noises hit the wall!" Shino retorted.

"What on earth were you two pretending to be?"

"No! It wasn't pretend." Jun protested.

"First thing you said so far that was truth," Shino sniffed.

"Don't say things like that, boys. It's fine to play your games, but don't try to say it's the truth. Someone could take you seriously and get worried."

"Okay," Shino said, glad to let the subject finally die. Now, if Jun would just go home or away or wherever the annoying kid came from…

Jun pointed an accusing finger. "Don't just say okay. Say it's not a lie!"

"Al right, enough. Tell me what really happened, if something did happen. Where were you? And I'm very serious, boys. I want the truth. If this was just a game, tell me now and we're all done."

Shino glared at Jun. As expected, the big bowl-headed kid spilled the whole thing.

"Show me. Take me there."

The small boys led Shibi to the street in front of the small apartment, where there was no sign of blood or altercation. He would have chalked it up to imagination if he hadn't known who lived there. Now that he saw whose apartment they had been near, he was fairly certain their story was true.

Shibi considered the possibilities. "You two go across the way and stand under the tree. Just stand there, don't come any closer. Alright?"

He knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again, more insistently,

The door opened a crack.

"Yes, Aburami-san, what can I do for you today?"

"Mizuki, hello. Sorry to bother. The boys were playing here in the area earlier and Shino forgot his special sunglasses. You didn't happen to see them and pick them up, did you?"

"No. I didn't see them. But I haven't been outside for a while." Mizuki eyed the bug jounin suspiciously.

"Hm. Thanks anyway, then, sorry to bother you. How are things going at the Academy these days?"

"Ah, look – I would enjoy chatting with you, but I have water running and I don't want it to overflow. Another time, Aburame-san, if you please. Goodbye now." He shut the door firmly.

Shino cast a veiled thread of chakra, surreptitiously searching from the number and condition of apartment's occupants. He had detected traces of blood, the sort of thing that would linger after a hasty clean-up, when Mizuki had opened the door. His senses found pretty much what he expected. Someone else with a familiar chakra was in there with Touji – very much alive, however. He didn't detect any particular distress, indicating that the other person was not being held against their will.

He gathered up the boys and headed back home.

"So, did somebody get dead?"

"No, everyone's fine."

"We didn't lie!"

"I know. They probably just had an argument. Big people do that. All the time. But I'm glad you told an adult about it. That was the right thing to do."

It was Jun's turn to stick out his tongue at Shino.

It gave Shibi plenty to consider. He wasn't sure whether to go straight to the Hokage or confront Iruka with it first.

o0o0o0o

Mizuki had healed him, cleaned him up and after the brief interruption at the door, proceeded to maneuver him into a bout of making up that left him in need of healing and clean up again. By the time Iruka left his lover, both of them finally calm and in control, the sun was beginning to rise.

His only salvation was that the Academy was on break. He needed his own bed, with no one else in it. He needed time to think. This thing with Mizuki was getting to be a distraction for him these days.

This was love as he knew it. This was how a relationship went. He never really questioned the elements of it. For the self-indulgent weakness of having to have companionship, he was being controlled, judged, punished, and micromanaged. Like when he was little. Only now, it was far more complicated. He had so many new freedoms and responsibilities to deal with, all while trying to maintain his end of this invasive relationship. He had dirty secrets and filthy desires to juggle, and they were entwined in his relationship as well. He was shamefully eager to use Mizuki as his crutch for dealing with all of that. No wonder the platinum-haired nin lost his temper so completely every now and again. It was entirely understandable.

There was a note folded and stuck to the door of his apartment with a kunai, a jutsu attached so that only Iruka could open it; quite unusual. He pulled it free and frowned as he read it. Aburame-sama wanted to speak with him immediately. He sighed and rested his head against the door. He needed to curl up and be still and alone for a while, to gather himself back up before dealing with anyone else. After a moment's pause, he decided he needed just a few minutes, at least. A change of clothes, a few minutes of solitude and peace, recharging in his very own space.

He no sooner stepped in than a voice over his shoulder startled him.

Shibi had been cloaked in stealth, watching every move and reaction as Iruka took the note and read it. He detected the young man's condition, and his trampled psyche. He wasn't going to turn a blind eye to this now.

"Iruka-kun."

Iruka spun, shaking his head. "Aburame-sama, I will come to see you shortly. Please allow me a moment to refresh myself; I have been away for the night…"

"Don't belittle my intelligence, Iruka. We both know where you were. I have an excellent idea as to what transpired. I'm not going to pretend that I don't know or don't care."

"I see." Iruka looked down, gathering his composure and resigning himself to this impromptu meeting. Short of being rude or fabricating some outlandish story, there was no real way to avoid this. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you." Shibi stepped in, glancing around at the somewhat bare living area. Iruka had been living here for at least a couple of years, by his estimate. Odd that he hadn't seemed to have made himself at home. There were no personal items displayed; he had acquired only the barest of necessities. "May I be frank?"

Iruka gestured for his visitor to sit, nodding with no small measure of dread.

"Your situation has come to my attention again, Iruka. Again. I don't know what this thing is between you and Touji. You seem to be a willing participant. But let me give you some advice. People do pay attention, and they do see things, especially when one of the participants is indiscreet. This sort of thing can be damaging to your reputation and your career. I guarantee you, Mizuki knows it. If nothing else, his disregard for your reputation is inexcusable. My concern is that you seem to trust him, Iruka. I ask you, what is your basis for this trust? Because you've obviously trusted him with your integrity, and he's trashing it before your eyes. I just don't know if you see it."

Tired and tenderized by the hours of relentless 'love' following their violent fight, Iruka heard every word as the truth. But still, his loyalty to his ersatz family of one was impossible to cast off. It was not ideal, but it was still a relationship, truly the only enduring one he had. It was a little harmful, sure, but he was tough, and the harmful part was only a part. Kind of like it was the price he had to pay for it.

It left him silent in the face of Shibi's words.

"You know all of this I'm sure, Iruka-kun. So please answer. How do you manage to hold him in any form of respect?"

Iruka cleared his throat. This was different than his prior interactions with Shibi; this time the man was speaking as though they were equals. He felt compelled to explain, but came up short. He couldn't explain the unexplainable.

"I just do, Aburame-sama. We have been there for each other since the Kyuubi attack. We are like family."

"Family." Shibi shook his head. "I want you to understand why I'm here. I wanted to tell you that I'm taking my concerns to the Hokage. Sarutobi-sama will…"

"Don't! I…I don't want to disappoint him. He was so incredibly kind when I was injured. To tell him of my shortcomings now…it would mock his good intentions!"

"No. No, Iruka, you misunderstand his ways. He won't see you as failing his expectations. He'll see this as an opportunity to help you. He's very, very fond of you."

"But, I don't really need help. I guess, like you say, I just need to be more discreet. I can do that, just give me a chance. I just received my acceptance to promote to sensei full-time at the Academy. Please don't do anything to harm that. Compared to that, this isn't important; I don't know why you have to be so concerned with it. It's nothing."

Iruka's hand reached out in a pleading gesture, and Shibi caught it in a gentle grasp.

"Iruka-kun, in all my years, I have met many people. So many, and yet, there is something so unique about you, I wonder sometimes if you are of Leaf at all. I do understand how our Hokage feels, even if you don't. I would be doing him a disloyalty if I held this information from him."

Iruka pulled back. "But…what information? What is it that you think you know?"

"No games, please. We both know you've been healed recently, more than once, at Mizuki's apartment. I know there was blood carelessly spilled. I know it wasn't his blood, not a drop of it."

Iruka's hand clamped over his mouth and he looked down, trying to think of something to say to make it all better. But his mind was on overload and his body was weary from the recent events. The senior jounin was clearly determined to make an issue of this, and nothing he said had helped the man to see it in his perspective. It was just background noise in his life, really. It was no big deal – until someone like Shibi threatened to elevate it.

"You aren't well. Perhaps a trip to the infirmary…"

Iruka shook his head hard.

"I just…just need some rest, is all. I'm fine. With respect, I am being honest when I tell you this is nothing."

The bug jounin reached out, and watched the automatic flinch as his hand came to rest on Iruka's shoulder. "I can stay for a bit. Why don't you lie down and rest, and I'll stay to make sure that you're not disturbed?"

"No, thank you, but no, that's not necessary. No one will bother me." Striving to be polite, he couldn't help being a little defensive. It was mortifying that the jounin was offering to babysit him. Did he really think he was so helpless?

"You seem so certain of all this. Do you realize that this is not within the normal bounds of a relationship?"

Iruka twisted inside with those words. Now that issue was the one he feared to have brought out into the daylight the most – his own strange behaviors in the context of their liaisons. That was where the darkest boundaries were being crossed, and for that he was fully responsible. They were going to see through him, see his sickness, and find him unfit even for teaching. He had to derail this misguided attempt of help.

"My relationship is private, what I do there isn't something everyone is supposed to know. If it's different than what others do, what harm is that to you?"

"It's not a harm to me, Iruka-kun. It's harming you, and you're determined to allow it. That's the problem."

"I'm fine. You can see that. Look at me. The only thing I'm upset about right now is your threat to make a bad report about me to the Sandaime."

"So stubborn! This isn't about bad reports! It's too late to hide this from me, I have already made the discovery. You should know, here and now, that I am not going to remain silent forever. If I see anything more of this, I will not be mollified again!" Frustrated, the bug jounin gave Iruka a very serious look. "And don't think you've fooled me. The facts are clear: he injured you – again – and you're covering up for him. This is the last time. I see this again – I'm taking this forward. You need to rethink your actions, Iruka-kun, and your reasons for this unhealthy co-dependence. There is no value in your role as an enabler for him, either. Things like this escalate. It will end badly if you don't put a stop to it yourself."

Iruka nodded, smart enough to know that any argument would only make things worse. He waited, standing, until his guest finally reached the end of his patience.

"You must take care of yourself now, Iruka-sensei. You are a man, a teacher, a role model. You can't be the lost orphan boy anymore. You can't afford to let your past continue to sabotage your future. Come to me and we can talk this out, any time. My door is always open to you - as a friend."

He walked his guest out to make a formal goodbye. When he closed and sealed the door, he barely made it to the futon before dropping in exhaustion. The older man was overreacting so severely – he must be insulated from the realities of life for Iruka's generation. Violence and infighting between friends and lovers just happened, it happened all the time, on missions, in the bars, hell, he'd seen two of the duty captains beat each other bloody on the sparring grounds near the Academy just last week over some dispute about shift changes. He hadn't given it much notice at all – the men were best friends, before and after. Shibi was just not up to date with the way things were.

But that didn't help Iruka now. If the Aburame was that far out of touch with the current norm, then he could only figure the much older, far more inaccessible and insulated Hokage would have an even worse reaction. And that reaction was one he truly cared about for many reasons, not just for his career and reputation, although he didn't really admit that, even to himself.

His body was failing him in his effort to just take a moment to regroup and hop back up. Mizuki had gone so very far this time, and the healing was not as complete as it should have been. With little other option, he gave in and focused on calming himself, shifting into a meditative state that would hasten his recovery. Any serious contemplation regarding what would best address this unwanted intervention was going to have to wait until later.

Shibi detected the slight rise in distress levels and waited for the ragged chakra pattern to even out before walking away from the doorstep. Iruka was getting to be too old to be needing this kind of intervention. If he couldn't be reached soon, his future was in serious question.

xxxx

"So, as we have suspected," Sandaime said, sipping his tea reflectively after reading Shibi's confidential note aloud, "this disturbing tendency is rooting, perhaps deeply. Touji is becoming entrenched. You saw this coming, Hayate-kun. I am a little surprised that one such as an Aburame felt moved to report on this, if only informally. If I didn't know better, I'd say we'd become a bunch of gossiping old hens."

"Your Hokageship, with respect, this is beyond the usual who-did-what-with-whom storytelling."

"I know, I know, I'm just making light of a very dark situation. This situation is as delicate as it is troubling. The very best results would come from Iruka's realization that it is not in his best interest to continue to play victim to Mizuki. But he has defended him against any and all accusation."

"It's a question of loyalty for him, I think."

"Well. Then he needs some perspective on the true nature of that very important element of life. Perhaps if he is exposed to it on a larger scale. I have an idea, tell me what you think. I propose a second shift for our stubborn young man. He can man the mission desk after school hours, just a few days a week at first. It will force him into deeper interaction with every type of nin we have, give him more to observe, broaden his social experience. And it will give him that much less free time to be spending with certain unsavory elements."

"Brilliant idea!" Hayate raised his cup in a salute. "I wish I had thought of it."

"We shall see if it's brilliant or not," the old man smiled, nodding in thanks for his confidante's enthusiastic approval. "But for now, we'll try it. Make the adjustments to the mission desk roster and notify Umino. Mind how you schedule him, now. Start him out with the regular men, not with someone doing shifts as punishment. The sooner, the better."

He watched Hayate head out, and turned to gaze out the window, observing the relatively peaceful activity on the streets. This man had been a good choice for his confidential assistant; his appointment to this task had been of great benefit to both of them when Gekko's physical problems had been deemed chronic and incurable. It had redirected the shinobi's potential distress at the loss of mission work into pride and confidence at being trusted with Hokage-level secrets. He had his other duties at the Academy to busy him as well, selected specifically so that he was easily substituted for during his bad spells.

All things considered, it had made for the best thing that could have happened to him, given his bad situation. Hayate was excellent company and flawlessly trustworthy in keeping secrets; the Sandaime found him to be indispensable on many levels.

A Hokage should have great affection for all of his people; the Third's was amplified even more by his sympathy over their loss of the beloved Fourth Hokage far too soon. But a handful just got under his skin, and he shamelessly loved them as much as any of his family members. Despite the great irritation it caused some of his blood relatives, he was not inclined to change that. It had enriched his life far too much, and he didn't think he would be very successful at directing a cold shoulder at those he had an affinity for anyway.

Hayate was one such person, and Iruka was another; he would always hold them in warm regard, and take a little more interest in their well-being. Besides, as the leader of the village, he had the right to play favorites if he pleased.

xxxx

Iruka found himself filling in for Izumo as second chair on the mission desk. He'd been nervous; it was his first time working the desk. The surly elites had been lined up all afternoon, turning in work they impatiently wanted him to just stamp in, while he panicked inwardly trying to verify the documentation quickly and accurately. Kotetsu had been working the other end of the counter almost mechanically. When the lines would thin and they'd have enough of a break to talk, Ko would lament at Zoom's late return, worrying relentlessly.

Ko was up front cleaning off the counter after locking the door. Iruka wandered to the back room with the armload of scrolls from the day to sort and lock up. His attention was within, his mind going over the exchanges during his shift in a critical review of his performance. He wondered how many stupid mistakes he had made in front of the seasoned veterans that he wasn't even aware of; with a shake of his head at the embarrassing possibilities, he started back forward to the counter to ask what Ko had thought of his work and stopped short.

Apparently, Izumo had returned, and Kotetsu had let him in. Letting him file his report after hours as a favor, Iruka supposed from the glimpse he got before turning back to do as he had been told. He returned to his task of separating and securing the reports, concentrating to remember the single lesson he'd had on the procedure earlier. Things fell into place as he progressed, and he gained a bit of confidence, it seemed that he was getting this right on the first try. The faint conversation between the two men was drifting in and out of his awareness, background noise he politely avoided tuning in to.

When he placed the last scroll in the proper casing and locked the cabinet, Iruka heard something odd. Izumo and Kotetsu had been arguing about something earlier, and it had given Iruka a queasy feeling. But their voices had then grown quieter now, and in Iruka's experience, that meant all was well.

When he stepped forward, he was shocked, and drew back before inching forward to peer from the alcove.

Izumo was nearly nude. That, alone, was not all that shocking – because he was having his wounds treated. He had a long, red welt down his back, and several obviously new, roughly-healed kunai-type injuries.

But it was the manner in which Kotetsu was treating them that seemed to freeze and shatter something in Iruka's brain.

Gentle hands were healing, massaging, roaming in obviously welcome molestation. Ko was taking as much time to pleasure the wounded man as he was to heal him. His words were surreal. Iruka had to shake his head to take them in properly. All the while, he was using such a comforting tone of voice, telling Izumo how worried he had been, and how well he was going to take care of him. He forced him to wait until all of the healing was done before allowing any reciprocation. He took away his pain. And then he gave only pleasure and comfort, and received much the same in return. They made love in the midst of it, in the same manner. There was no blood, no force. Like some pervert, Iruka had applied a concealment to himself to make sure he could witness this strange phenomenon, every bit of it. Where had they learned this? They were as kind to one another as one would be if indulging a child.

When they were lying close together afterward, Ko was nuzzling and fondling Izumo, blissful in relief that his overdue mission hadn't turned out worse. The mission desk counter was never going to look the same to him again, Iruka had decided. He was dazed and unable to understand how they managed to have picked and chosen just the 'nice' parts for this encounter. There were no sores, no marks, no bleeding or bitten tongues.

It brought back a memory of Mizuki being kind and caring, when they were just friends, spending the night by the river...and a cold chill in his chest that he had to shake off. As soon as it formed in his mind he swept it away again, in order to pay attention.

There had been no healing necessary after their union at all. In fact, the very act seemed to have a healing quality of its own.

It flew in the face of everything he knew to be true; it contradicted things he never thought of before, because they just were the way they were, like any fact of life.

"Iruka never left," Ko said suddenly. He jumped to a very bad conclusion, and flared out his chakra hard, uncovering their peeping tom in his tracks.

"Iruka?" Izumo asked. Kotetsu threw his shirt over his partner and stood in front of him, as if to protect him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ko demanded. He stepped toward Iruka with clenched fists. But when he caught sight of the scarred face, it set him aback. This wasn't the expression of some guilty voyeur or aroused lecher. The look was more stunned and ill. Ko rethought his assumptions. He had disregarded Iruka's presence in his relief at having Zoom back in one piece, and then got caught up in being distraught that he had been injured. Iruka had been faced with their indiscretion, and he obviously hadn't stuck around because he enjoyed it.

"It…I was in the back. Then…I just was waiting for you to go so I could leave."

Izumo had rolled off the counter and clumsily pulled on his pants, nodding for Kotetsu to do the same. If Iruka was truly upset, he might complain and get them some annoying lecture from the Hokage. They were the ones who had broken the rules, although it was just a minor infraction.

And he did look truly upset, almost ridiculously so.

"Hey, Iruka," Izumo said with a hopeful smile. "Sorry man. We just get a little carried away. No big. Right?"

Iruka was kneading his hands, shaking his head slightly.

Kotetsu put an arm around Izumo to make sure he was steady on his feet.

"No blood?" Iruka breathed to himself, seeing that the area was free of any sign of it.

"What? Are you feeling all right?" Izumo asked.

"Fine! I'm sorry, I didn't remind you I was here."

"No, no problem, don't worry about it. Just our little secret, right? No need to take this up with anyone else."

"Yeah. No need."

"Go on, then, man, we've already locked up."

Iruka staggered off into the dark, a stunning lesson for his first day on the desk under his belt, a folder of homework to correct under his arm, an early start at the Academy looming in the morning…and regrets to express to Mizuki, because they would not be getting together tonight after all.

It was the first of many nights he would have to stand Mizuki up for his new workload.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Iruka leaned on the counter and pointed with a regretful shake of his head. He felt the chakra rising, but he was sure of himself on this one.

"Listen, Iruka-kun, I have been doing this for a very long time. I don't think one so wet behind the ears should be making any suggestions about the content of my report." Chouza growled, slamming a beefy hand down on his paperwork.

"But you didn't give the quantity. I heard you telling one of the jounin that you brought in twice the weaponry you were tasked with on the scroll."

"I never quantify! It's not required! It's not an error, how dare you…" the huge shinobi roared.

"Please, wait! Hear me out! I am not calling it an error. But just marking the retrieval a success will lead to a lesser payment for the village, and a lower ranking for the mission than it deserves. If you include the numbers to show that you secured double the items, the contractor will be forced either to pay more, or only take that which he has paid for, and Konoha will retain the extra for their arsenal; and exceeding the goal by so much will result in a mission rating of superior performance. This is to benefit you and the village, Akimichi-sama, I must humbly insist that you reconsider." Iruka looked the enraged senior jounin in the eyes without flinching and did not back down. He knew he was correct. And it was his job to see to it that the mission reports were accurate, legible, and in some cases, properly documented with pertinent details.

The large, reddened face paused, and the narrowed eyes dropped a little. His missions went well enough, but he had been running a little side bet with a couple of his contemporaries, and while their numbers were quite close, he was just slightly behind. A superior rating, with extra profit, would boost him into the lead. No one had pointed out this aspect of the report writing to him before.

"So, in the case of exceeding specifications, quantifying in the report can increase Konoha's profit?" he asked, reluctantly seeing the sense of it.

"Yes, yes, I have assisted with the ledger before, there is no doubt."

"You are still impertinent, but I do see your point. Ai, now I must rewrite so much! This will take too long!"

"No, no, your report is fully complete, that would not be necessary. Unless, you'd prefer to put it in the body of your mission outline; I can understand if you would prefer to."

"I have better things to do that re-write fully written mission reports!"

"Then if you would just add the details below in the inventory…"

Chouza frowned even more, because he, like so many of the jounin, rarely filled out the inventory of the take, but instead wrote "as per assigned" or left it blank. He felt a little annoyed that the obvious answer had to be pointed out to him in this way.

"All right. Just to stop you from being a noisy brat." He snatched the pen and completed the form with a few easy strokes. He looked at it for a moment, and then sighed hard. "They certainly gave you the right job, didn't they? Here."

Iruka took the report scroll with a polite bow of thanks, stamped it in, signed off, and placed it in the completed bin.

"Don't lose that one now," the large nin scolded as he rumbled out of the room.

Iruka took the next report, from a chunin from his old class, and checked it over, having them date it in the spots they'd missed, but otherwise finding it to be fine. When he placed it in the bin, there was a lull in the incoming traffic.

Izumo laughed at him quietly. Watching Iruka settle into the mission desk job over the last few weeks had been fascinating, and it still was.

"You're not on commission here, Iruka. You just about paid for that little inventory correction with your butt."

He waved a hand in dismissal. "He was just a little annoyed. But he's serious about his work. I knew he would want his mission to be reported correctly."

"You're brave or dumb, and I do not want to know which. Not many would stand there so calmly and look an angry Akimichi right in the face, and just keep right on talking."

Iruka puzzled at that. He almost said something, but silenced himself. He had seen much angrier looks on Mizuki; he knew from hard experience when someone was just angry, and when they were about to lose control, and the jounin had simply been angry. If seeing anger upset him so much, he would have had one heck of a time maintaining their relationship.

His mind wandered a little. Those enraged exchanges with Mizuki did make it difficult at times. Others would not find it tolerable? They were shinobi, men with strong opinions and fiery temperaments; what sort of wimp would make that an important factor between two people?

Izumo, for one, apparently. From what he'd seen, Izumo and Kotetsu were considerate of each other, and he guessed further that they were most of the time. They were in the process of trying to get permanent duty as the gatekeeping team. That further confounded Iruka. They would be together all the time if they did that. As a team, maybe…but as a couple? When would they be able to get away from one another when…when…

When what? If they were so good together, why would they need to get away?

Ah, such a strange relationship concept made his head throb. It was getting late, and before long Ko would be wandering in to help them finish up so they could close the desk on time. He didn't have to, but when he wasn't on another assignment he did it as a favor. At first, Iruka had thought it was a subtle way of controlling Izumo, to hurry him along, to give him no other option than to come immediately with Ko when his shift was over.

But it wasn't that way at all; He'd seen Ko finish Izumo's shift for him so that he could go pay a visit to a friend in the infirmary. They did helpful things for one another that did not always have an immediate pay-off for the one who extended the favor.

He had made that assumption, because if Mizuki had been coming to help close up the mission room, it would have been a control issue. Iruka had no doubt. And when he really thought about it…he kind of resented it. Which, he told himself, was completely unfair: the platinum-haired shinobi hadn't even visited the mission desk during his assigned time. He was resenting Mizuki for things he'd only imagined that he would do.

But the little seed of resentment at the feeling of being controlled had already been planted. It lingered in the edge of his awareness now whenever he saw the future gatekeepers synch so well together.

o0o0o0o

Iruka was not alone when it came to resentment; in fact he was running a poor second to his other half.

Mizuki had been effectively cut off from spending time with Iruka; they saw one another briefly at the Academy, but Mizuki declined to socialize there anymore. Rumors began to surface that the two were no longer an item within days.

The gossip actually pleased the platinum-haired shinobi. His reconsideration for sensei was up for vote again, and he strongly suspected the Third had been deciding against him in order drive a wedge between him and Iruka. He'd managed, for once, to go three entire months without a reprimand or negative review. It was put up or shut up time for the old man. They would have to go public with the fact that they had been blackballing him, or they'd have to promote him this time.

It didn't take another week before his approval came through. He was to be in a probationary period due to the prior rejection, but other than that, he was once again on equal footing with Iruka. They'd given him several extracurricular programs to work at, and he suspected rightly that it was meant to keep him busy and isolated from certain people. That was all right. A little absence, and abstinence, would make the heart grow fonder on both sides.

And besides – he had a lot of work to do himself. Things he could only do alone.

On the rare free afternoon, he set out on a hike beyond the village walls, out beyond the borders of Konoha, clear to the very edge of Fire Country. There he found the cave again, just as he had left it. He spent a few hours tidying it up, adding the contents of his stuffed rucksack to the array of stolen lab equipment already set up in an impressive display.

It would take many more visits and a lot more work to get this place up to speed. He hoped to establish reasonable living quarters here, as well as a fortress to protect them while he did his research.

If Iruka was otherwise occupied with his tasks, then so be it. He would come along when the time was right. For now, Mizuki decide to continue to keep this place secret, even from Iruka. It just couldn't be helped.

With Iruka so dedicated to teaching children, Mizuki was strongly considering an action to address that. A child or two might come in handy when they needed to go unchallenged into inhabited areas, and in obligating Iruka to stay close and behave. They would have to be natural offspring; Iruka would never stand for an abduction. The mother could be an asset, in the beginning anyway.

He already had a female in mind. A kunoichi named Tsubaki had been sniffing around him and while he was not interested in her in romantically, the potential for her use sent his mind spinning. She could bear those children later; for now, she would bring him income, and create an excellent diversion to draw the public eye away from his true romantic obsession. With proper handling, her value could be incredible.

He saw no reason why he couldn't have them both.

When he returned from working on his secret project, he came back to the village early enough to seek out Tsubaki and take her out for a drink.

He turned on the charm and watched in warm confidence as she drank it up, big dark eyes nearly as vulnerable as his true love's. His plans were inching forward, growing much like the affection he saw softening her smile as she moved closer and let him steal a chaste kiss.

He laughed with her as she confessed that she had been worried, since rumor had it he was taken. He reassured her and let the evening end there at the bar with one last hug and kiss, feigning the need to take care of some task. It left her hanging, as he knew it would, when he walked away instead of pushing for something more. He let the momentum swing his way, feeling her eyes on his back as he headed for the door to go home.

Iruka had been apologizing a lot lately for being unavailable. Mizuki relished the idea of making him truly sorry for neglecting him. All in the game, he thought, letting himself into his quiet apartment. If anyone thought he wasn't playing it to win, they were sadly mistaken.

_tbc_


End file.
